“You know,” Winona said with a faux-conspiratorial whisper, “this is Annie’s grand plan? She laces her pies with some mysterious ingredient developed in some secret government lab to keep the masses addicted and coming back for more.”

“Yeah.” Della leaned in and mouthed, “It’s called sugar.”

Winona sighed. “Damn it, why does sugar taste so good? Why?”

Della grinned as she gestured to the seat opposite her. “You wanna sit? Or have you got a book to be getting back to?”

“I do. But I’m stuck, so I’m procrastinating. I came here looking for an enabler in the form of pie.”

“Will I do? I’m not as sweet.”

“True. But you’re not going to stick to my ass, either.”

Della laughed. Hell, if she had Winona’s figure, she’d eat pie all damn day. She was almost six foot, big-boned, and curvy—very Xena Warrior Princess. Della would bet good money that it took a lot of pie to power that commanding frame.

“I don’t think your brother is that keen on us hanging out,” Winona said. “In case I corrupt you.”

It was well known around town that Credence’s chief of police and the erotic romance novelist rubbed each other the wrong way. Arlo found Winona a confusing and irritating mix of brash and laissez-faire. Winona found Arlo and even more irritating mix of hot cover dude with a side of stick-up-his-ass.

Sparks flew off them whenever they crossed paths, but secretly Della thought they both enjoyed the banter. “Corrupt away,” she said with a smile, using her foot under the table to push the chair out a little.

“Oh goody.” Winona grinned as she slid into the chair, her caramel curls bouncing.

“So…what are you stuck on?” Della didn’t think she’d be of much help, but she found Winona and her writing process fascinating.

The other woman sighed. “I can’t get my hero and heroine to do it.”

“Oh.” Della didn’t think for a moment she meant mowing the lawn or paying their taxes.

She really liked that about Winona—her frankness about sex and the unselfconscious way she spoke about it. There was nothing taboo or risqué, it was just another part of life. Della supposed that was par for the course for an erotic romance author, but she’d never met anyone quite like Winona.

She was pretty sure nobody in Credence had, either.

“They were supposed to do it in chapter two,” Winona lamented. “I’m on chapter ten, and they’re still refusing to get down and dirty. Seriously, I’ve never met two more recalcitrant characters in my life. I mean—it’s sex, right?” She bugged her eyes at Della in appeal. “It’s not like I’m asking them to swallow poison or have a root canal.”