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were right up there with some of the reasons she’d given her folks for moving to Lusty. Along with the peace and the slow pace and the better writing environment.

She had not, of course, told them the number one reason. She would not tell them about the crazed fan who’d broken into her apartment or the fact that he’d damn near succeeded in murdering her.

Instead of her death, that attack had resulted in her knocking her attacker out cold—turned out the jerk had a glass jaw—and then he’d been arrested, charged, tried…and sent to a mental hospital. Probably, hopefully, for life. The result for her was she no longer felt safe in New York City. And when she’d thought of safety, she’d immediately thought of Lusty. So here she was.

Mary pushed away all thought of that bastard. He did not belong here.

“Come on, Blondie,” Peter, one of Tracy’s husbands came over and tugged on his wife’s hand. “Emily Ann is going to sing a Carrie Underwood set. Come dance with us.”

Tracy looked at Mary, an unasked question in her eyes. Mary made a “shooing” motion. She was more than capable of being left alone at the table. And the upside was that home was less than a five-minute walk away. She’d been a New Yorker for a decade. Walking to get somewhere was second nature to her.

Mary watched as Emily Anne Richardson—wearing a snazzy looking cowgirl hat—got up on the small stage. Her appearance brought cheers from the family.

Mary recognized the intro and the music as the notes of the first song, Drinking Alone, filled the center. And then Emily Ann began to sing, capturing every ear, and every eye.

“She’s got pipes.”

Mary didn’t jump, but it was close. On either side of her, where the chairs had been empty, sat a cop. Having the two men she’d more or less been fantasizing about sit down on either side of her made her heart pound. She inhaled deeply and took in the combined scent of clean male animal times two.

Their heat, their closeness, and the sexy, bluesy sound of the song worked together to melt her resolve and yes, her lady bits were completely awake.

Then she met Anthony’s gaze and was left in no doubt about what he was thinking. She looked over at Toby—lying to herself she did so to escape Anthony’s heat—and fell into the obsidian depths of desire that man dared reveal to her.

She didn’t recognize the sound that seeped from her throat, but they must have. Both men inhaled deeply. Then Anthony got to his feet and held out his hand. She took the offering but once she was standing, with both men so close she could swear she felt their heartbeats, she shook her head slowly. “I don’t dance very well.”

“Even better.” Toby’s words brushed her ear. Then he took her right hand and began to walk away from the table, and the stage, and the rest of the people in attendance.

She’d noticed the darker back corners of the hall but hadn’t given any thought to them at all. Not until she was surrounded by the darkness—able to see the light, the dancing, the crowds but somehow totally apart, like a picture-in-picture representation of life.

“We’ve been eyeing each other for a couple of weeks, now.” Anthony Corbett’s words cut through her self-delusion. He spoke the absolute truth. She had been eyeing them, and lying to herself that she was intrigued, drawn…aroused.

“It’s time to taste.” He tugged her slowly, giving her lots of time to turn away. But she didn’t want to turn away. Maybe this was for the best. They’d kiss, and then they’d all just head back to the table and enjoy the rest of the night. Together alone.

That song is definitely getting to me.

Even so, Mary stepped into him and lifted her face. Anthony’s grin had a touch of mischief in it. Then his grin covered hers and the ground beneath her feet simply fell away.

Hot and wet, deep and dangerous, Anthony Corbett’s kiss drugged her, making her head spin and her heart race. His tongue breeched her lips and taught hers to dance, a sexy, wet, samba that swayed her soul and seduced her body. Mary drank him, and drowned in him, and wondered that everything she’d ever believed about herself simply melted away.

Anthony lifted his head. His glittering gaze spoke of need and greed and the very real fact that she hadn’t been the only one overwhelmed by that kiss. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward Toby.

“Pucker up, New York.” That cheeky nick name he’d given her on the first day they’d met did nothing to deter the growing heat within her and when he took her mouth, when he plundered, Mary Kendall felt her bones begin to melt. For a heartbeat she tasted both men on her tongue, and the flavor was ambrosia…nectar of the gods.

She returned his kiss, her tongue repeating the moves so recently learned. Toby’s essence became her own, as Anthony’s had, and she gave and gave until she wondered if she would ever have anything of herself left.

Toby ended their kiss. Both men were shaking, as she was shaking…and in that moment she knew she needed air. Air, and space.

“I have to…”

“Go now, if you must,” Anthony said. “But your leaving won’t end it.”

“Unless you want to.” Toby caressed her chin with a finger. “So…. the next time you see us, think of that. You can say no…. or you can let us in.”

Mary Kendall didn’t look back. She didn’t even let herself think. She swooped past the table where she’d been sitting to grab her purse, and then she walked. Through the door of the community center and down the street…and she didn’t stop until she closed the door of her little house behind her.

* * * *

There was nothing in the entire world that Kate Benedict loved more than being surrounded by her family. She especially loved being around

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