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“We need to get her to bed,” Jethro told him softly.

Mac nodded slowly. “Did you talk to Gladsteen?”

“She’s working on it. Said she would let you know the charge later. ”

Mac winced. He was going to end up paying out the ass for this one and he knew it. The case of Scotch might be a small, very small, portion of it, but there wasn’t a chance it would be the entire thing.

He wiped his hand over his face, glanced at the clock, and winced.

“Let’s head to bed, then. Keiley doesn’t sleep well on the couch. ”

He caught the slight stiffening of Jethro’s expression and stared back at him questioningly. He hadn’t expected this to be easy, not for any of them, but he admitted that for the most part, the relationship was working out well considering the circumstances.

Did he feel guilty that he had maneuvered his wife and his best friend in such a way? Sometimes. Enough to draw back? Not in a million years. Keiley was his soul and his life, and her pleasure, her protection were worth everything. The fact that he enjoyed the hell out of watching her pleasure was secondary. Besides, he missed Jethro. They worked well together, understood each other.

And they both loved Keiley.

25

“Everything in moderation,” Keiley murmured as she smoothed her hand over the sleeveless vest top she wore and checked the fit of her snug blue jeans and stylish boots.

The jeans were a little tight, hugging her butt and legs perfectly. They weren’t as low at the hips as those that she wore around the house, but she was going out. That required a whole different perspective.

“Less is better,” she reminded herself as she attached small hoops to her ears. “Don’t go overboard. They belong to you. Just remember, you don’t have to stake a claim, just show ownership. Simple. Easy. Very aboveboard. ”

Mac tilted his head as he stood in the doorway, shot Jethro a confused look, then stared back at his wife as she turned, ran her hand over her curvy little ass, and checked the fit of her jeans.

?

??It’s not like you have to get dirty,” she murmured.

Mac looked around the room. There was no one else there, and he knew damned good and well she hadn’t seen them yet.

“All you have to do is hold your head up. And remember, a ménage is not the same as embezzlement. Ménages are fun. Embezzling is illegal. They can’t stone you. ”

Pep talk. Damn. He had never heard his wife give herself a pep talk before.

“You will be the envy of the county. ” A smug little smile curved her lips as she faced the mirror again and brushed back her bangs. “Both those hard cocks are all yours. You can show your pride without being wicked. ”

He bit his lip as Jethro’s shoulders shook soundlessly.

Damn, he had lived with her for six months and been married to her for over three years and he had never heard her give herself a pep talk. And he sure as hell hadn’t seen the blatant smug smile such as the one she had on her face when she declared herself the proud owner of his and Jethro’s cocks.

“When you’ve finished cheering yourself on, we’re ready to go,” Mac announced, holding back his laughter as she swung around, a delicate pink blush working from her throat to her hairline.

“Eavesdroppers,” she snapped.

“Eavesdroppers hear nothing good of themselves,” he pointed out with a grin. “What we heard was infinitely satisfying. ”

Keiley felt her own laughter bubbling in her throat. Okay, so it had sounded bad of her, but she was determined to do this right. Sometimes that took a few reminders.

Besides, it was hard to get mad at either of them when they looked so damned good. Well-worn jeans hugged powerful legs. Their feet were encased in boots. Mac wore a white short-sleeved shirt and Jethro wore a black t-shirt. Both men had tucked their shirts into their jeans and wide belts cinched their hips. And those pants bulged perfectly. She must have a naughty streak she hadn’t recognized until now, because the proof of their very virile bodies sent a surge of pride racing through her.

“Okay. I’m ready. ” She spritzed a quick spray of Poison over her shoulders and chest before smoothing her hands over her jean-clad hips and watching as Mac’s gaze was drawn to her tanned legs and low-heeled Western boots.

His and Jethro’s gazes both sparkled with heat and approval. Confidence filled her. She could do this. She had been preparing all day. While Mac and Jethro had removed the other cameras from her bedroom curtains and worked to trace the remote link they had found, she had prepared herself for tonight.

Dinner and dancing at Casey’s, the old Western saloon-style club outside of town. She had taken a long, soaking bath filled with bath salts, waxed her brows, spent hours selecting her clothes, and called Maxine for moral support. Maxine, her husband, several of her sisters and their husbands, and half a dozen of the women from the charity committee were all going to be at Casey’s as well. Moral support, Maxine had raged. The picture Delia had shown Keiley had arrived in their in-boxes late last night from Delia’s e-mail address. It had arrived several more times from friends of Delia’s.

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