He smelled the scent of her perfume before he saw her in the open window of the hayloft, her face white, her black hair the color of midnight. His chest felt as if it were suddenly constricted with iron bands.

“Manny said you might be here,” she said as casually as if she’d spent all her life creeping around barns and climbing into haymows.

His gut tightened as she slid through the window and stepped onto the roof. Balancing herself with a hand on the roof of the stable, she walked the short distance to his side and slid onto her rear.

The scent of her perfume was stronger as it drifted to his nostrils, and her arm was so close to his that he could feel the heat of her body. He remembered how she’d felt in his arms, supple and pliable and willing…Oh, God…“What do you want?”

“Company.” She offered him a smile. “I thought we were friends.”

Off in the distance a coyote howled.

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

“We could try to be. Especially if you offered me a beer.”

Throat so dry it felt like sand, he handed the second can to her, and she, with a smile that flashed in the dark night, popped the tab and giggled when the foam erupted and spilled across her fingers. She lapped it up with her tongue and Zach tried not to notice how sexy she looked with the white flecks on her lips.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” she said, staring up at the heavens and sighing loudly. “If you like this kind of thing.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m a city girl.” She drank from the beer, then drew her legs up and wrapped her arms over her bare knees. Her shorts barely covered her butt, but Zach tried to keep his eyes and mind on anything but how damnably sensual she was. “Grew up in Ottawa.”

He didn’t reply, couldn’t.

They sat in silence for what seemed forever. Zach’s heart was drumming so loudly, he wondered if she heard it, and though he pretended disinterested insolence, he suspected she saw right through him.

“I didn’t want to come here,” she admitted. “I don’t like being this far away if there’s any news about London…” Her throat caught on her daughter’s name, but she didn’t break down. Instead she sighed and ran her fingers through the thick black curls that framed her perfect face. “You don’t like me much, do you, Zach?” she asked suddenly.

“You’re…my stepmother.”

“As in wicked stepmother?”

He lifted a shoulder and took the last gulp of his beer. His fingers were still around the empty can when she turned her eyes up to him and they sparked with an inner light. Zach could barely breathe as she, staring at him boldly, placed her hands on his shoulders and brushed her lips across his.

“Jesus, Katherine-” he breathed, his heart knocking crazily. “Don’t!”

“Shh.” She placed those supple lips against his again, just for a second-a second he was certain would change the course of his life forever. Her mouth was teasing and warm, filled with promise.

Zach groaned low in his throat. “Don’t do this, Kat.”

“You want it, too,” she murmured in a sigh as soft as the summer night.

He told himself that he couldn’t kiss her or touch her or even think about her, and yet he was too weak to tear away from her embrace. Her lips fastened over his and her breasts, beneath the fragile barrier of her T-shirt, brushed across his bare chest.

A thousand reasons to stop screamed through his head but when her tongue skimmed his lips, then pressed urgently, demanding entrance, he gave up and he kissed her back, closing his mind to the warnings.

Her tongue was wet and slick and wonderful. It touched the roof his mouth, flicked against his lips and teeth, and promised untold delights.

Heat swirled through his blood and his cock was so hard it strained against the zipper of his cutoffs. Don’t do this! Don’t! an inner voice cried, but instead of protesting, he reached up and his fingers wound in her thick hair. She slid down him and kissed his naked chest, her tongue licking its way against his skin.

A shudder that felt like fire ripped though him. He dropped his beer and the empty can rolled noisily down the roof. His body convulsed and hot desire pumped through him. Grabbing her with strength born of desperation, he kissed her hard on the lips and all he could think about was kissing her and touching her and riding her all night.

She’s your father’s wife, Danvers! his mind yelled, and for once he listened to it. He found the strength to push her away. “This isn’t gonna work,” he said, breathing hard, wishing he could call back the words. He was so hard he was sure he would explode. His fingers clamped around her shoulders, keeping her at arm’s length.

Katherine chuckled deep in her throat and the sound seemed to echo off the distant hills. “What is this, Zach?”

“Wrong. That’s what it is!” He dropped his arms, scooted farther away from her, and ran sweaty, trembling fingers through his long hair.

She pouted a little in the darkness. “Since when did you care about right and wrong?”

“Don’t play with me, Kat,” he warned and was surprised at the conviction in his voice.

“I just felt we had an understanding.” With a lift of her shoulder, she tucked her feet under her and stared down at him. “I don’t get it Zach. I thought-no, I knew-you wanted this.”

“I don’t.”

She snorted. “As a matter of fact, I was certain this is what you needed.”

“I don’t need you, Katherine,” he said, wishing he could put more distance between her sensual body and his own. “I don’t need anybody.”

“Oh, baby, that’s where you’re wrong.” To his mortification, she slid closer and patted his head as if he were a naughty little boy finally forgiven. Zach jerked away from her touch as if she repulsed him.

“Leave me alone, Kat,” he muttered between his teeth. His groin still ached and he was on fire inside, but he stared off into the distance, refusing to look at her. He focused instead on the ridge of dark mountains that loomed on the horizon and heard her sigh before she climbed to her feet, walked the short distance along the roof, slipped through the window, and disappeared into the hayloft.

When she was gone he flopped back on the weathered cedar shakes, angrily gazed up at the stars, and wondered why he was such a fool. He could have had her; she was there for the taking and he, because of some latent sense of nobility, had shrugged off her advances. He could still smell her perfume mingled with the lingering smoke from her cigarettes and he remembered her touch-that warm, bone-melting touch.

Jesus, you’re an idiot!


For the next few days, Zach managed to keep his distance. Up hours before Katherine ever thought about rising, he worked long hours in the fields and returned at sundown. Kat, invariably, was locked in her room, the television blasting. He never ran into her. As for his siblings, they all bothered him. Jason kept crowding him, offering to take him into Bend to meet women, but Zach declined and Jason went off prowling on his own. Trisha was pining for Mario and probably plotting her escape from the family compound. Sometimes she reeked of marijuana smoke and her eyes were often glassy. Zach had less trouble dealing with her stoned than when she was straight and plotting ways to escape. As for Nelson, the kid was still in the throes of hero worship, tagging after Zach as he went about his chores, trying to find ways to talk about his night with the prostitute. It didn’t seem to matter how many ways Zach explained that nothing really had happened except that he’d managed to get a few new scars; Nelson was still enthralled, certain that Zach had really “scored” with the whore but was protecting her honor, or some such crap.

The kid was sick, Zach thought as he stepped out of the shower and threw on a pair of cutoffs. Nelson’s fascination with all things sexual seemed bent. He wanted to know all about bondage and S &M and all that shit that Zach didn’t really know about and didn’t want to know. Men and women in leather and chains-like some kinky group of Hell’s Angels or something. It kind of made his skin crawl.

Pushing all thoughts of Nelson aside, Zach found leftovers in the kitchen, and since the maid had already retired for the night, he heated up the pork chops in the microwave, snatched himself a beer out of the fridge, and took his meal onto the back porch where the old collie was curled near the swing. Shep perked up at the smell of the meat and whined as Zach sat down and started in on the chops.

“Don’t give me that,” he said to the dog. “You’re too fat as it is.” Shep thumped his tail on the floorboards. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted softly and the sounds of bats’ wings disturbed the silence. The air smelled of horses, dust, and sagebrush. Zach thought he could find peace out here in the middle of nowhere. If it weren’t for his family.

Zach finished his dinner, tossed the bones to the dog, and wiped his fingers on the frayed edges of his cutoff Levi’s. He finished his Budweiser in two swallows, then walked back to the kitchen for another. Downing the second can quickly, he began to feel a slight buzz as he crushed the aluminum in his fist. He made his way back to his room, where he flipped on his stereo and flopped onto this bed. The song was an old one by the Doors.

“…Come on baby, light my fire…”

Like Kat. Boy, could she light dangerous fires. Zach closed his eyes and let the music surround him.

“…Try and set the night on fire!”

The French doors were cracked and the hint of a breeze stirred the curtains. His eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling. He was hard, as hard as he’d been when Kat had kissed him on the roof of the tack room. Just thinking about being with her had given him wet dreams for three nights running. The ache in his loins was so bad that he’d even considered driving into Bend with his brother and looking for some woman who would ease his pain, but the memory of his last visit to a whore had kept him at the ranch. He didn’t need any more trouble but, Lord, did he need some release. The pressure. Pounding, pounding…

Deep down, in the darkest oblivion of his soul, he knew that he didn’t want just any woman, that though he would go through the motions with any willing female, he was certain that anyone but Kat wouldn’t do and Kat, his stepmother, was the worst choice of all. He rolled over to his side and considered jacking off. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time, but it left him so…empty or lonely or feeling stupid. Face it, Danvers, you want her. All you have to do is walk down the hall, turn the corner, and tap on her bedroom door and the sweetest bit of pussy this side of the Rockies will be waiting to give you any fantasy you can dream up!

His throat was so dry he couldn’t draw up any spit and he squeezed his eyes shut, resigned to his fate as he reached for the fly of his pants.

He heard the creak of the door, felt the wind turn, and his heart jolted. His eyes flew open. At first he thought she was a vision, the beautiful woman on the other side of the glass. Moonlight spangled Kat’s black hair silver and her silk pajama top shimmered. His heart began to pump so loudly that he was certain she could hear it.

The doors opened further and dry leaves blew into the room. The wind tossed her hair away from her face and as she entered the room, he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. Her lips trembled and her nose ran.

“What-what are you-?”

“Just hold me, Zach,” she whispered in a voice strangled by grief.

“What is it?”

Walking numbly to the edge of his bed, she sniffed loudly, then stood in front of him, as if hesitating.

He drew himself into a sitting position. “You shouldn’t be here, Kat-”

“I know, but…Oh, God…” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and tears trickled down her cheeks. Between the broken sobs she said, “Witt just called and the police have run out of leads…the investigation is still open but they all think, the police and the FBI, that London…that London is dead.” The last word was barely a squeak and Zach couldn’t help himself. He stood and took her into his arms, trying to comfort her as sob after heart-wrenching sob shook her body.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Burying his face in the crook of her neck, holding her close, he willed himself to think of her not as a woman, but as a person to whom fate had handed a crushing blow. She clung to him and cried like a child, her tears raining down his chest. He told her it would be all right, that of course London was alive, that someday they would all see her again, but even as he said the words, he believed them to be lies.

When at last the racking sobs quieted, he lifted his head. “You should go back to the room, take some sleeping pills-”