“How do you know?” she threw back at him, tossing the very words in his face that he’d spit at her.

“Don’t you think that when Eunice and Witt split up, when she was stripped bare of everything she claimed she wanted, don’t you think she would have turned around and laughed in his face, told him that his second son had been fathered by his enemy, insisted that I stay with her?”

“Not if she wanted her reputation to stay intact. Her reputation, as I understand it, was as important to her as you children, so she would never say anything to tarnish it.”

“As we children? What a laugh. We were never important to her.”

“I think-”

“You don’t know. As for her reputation, it was already black as tar.”

He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

“I don’t believe she intended to hurt you.”

Eunice’s words, uttered at his bed in the hospital, whispered through his head. I hate to admit it, Lord knows a mother shouldn’t, but you’ve always been my favorite. Of all my children, you were the one closest to my heart. As if he was different. As if he wasn’t Witt’s son. Oh, God, no! All the spit dried in his mouth and he stared at Adria as if he were looking into the window of his future. “You couldn’t have done this”-he motioned to the bed of pine needles under the tree-“on the outside chance that I wasn’t a Danvers.”

“I did it for the same reasons you did, Zach. Because I wanted to. Because I couldn’t stop myself. Because from the first time I saw you, I knew it would happen. Because…because, damn it, I think I love you.”

She lifted up on her toes then and kissed him hard on the lips. He told himself to back off, that they were playing with fire, that no matter what happened, there could be no good ending to this, they would both be burned and yet he couldn’t stop himself. His arms fastened around her slim waist and he wouldn’t let go. He kissed her and held her and stripped her of her clothes, looking in fascination at the beauty of her breasts, white, with a fine webbing of blue veins hidden deep beneath the firm flesh, her nipples perfectly round and hard as he touched them and kissed them and buried his face between the two warm mounds.

He kissed the skin of her abdomen, drawing lazy circles around her navel before he slid lower and she writhed in pleasured torment beneath him. She tasted of woman and earth and all things primeval.

While the wind teased her hair, her fingers and hands worked their own sweet magic on him, shedding him of his clothes, tracing intimate circles along his spine and chest, dipping low beneath his jeans to push the tight denim over his butt.

Her eyes shone as she kissed him and tasted his hard-button nipples and skimmed her tongue down his breastbone and along the dark hairs that formed a line beneath his navel.

He fought the urge to close his eyes and stared at her, this woman who was forbidden, this woman whom he believed was only out for herself, this woman who could find the most hidden corners of his heart and expose them.

He shuddered as he took her with the same hot fervor that had consumed him the first time, driving into her with a force that was sure to chase the demons from his mind, thrusting hard and fast, hearing the catch of her breath, feeling her slick, velvet warmth envelop him, losing all thought, all reason, all control as the world seemed to burst and he fell against her, breathing hard, unable to think with any sort of reason. He was lost in the magic of her and he wondered if he’d ever break free. Would he ever want to? Kissing the sweat-soaked curls at the nape of her neck, he wished the world would go away and leave them alone and that, God in heaven, that they could be lovers forever. Without fear. Without those horrid thoughts that nagged at his mind and tested his will.

God, this was dangerous. Never had he lost himself so completely, never had he let loose of that tether that held him in touch with what was real, never had he given so much of himself with total, uninhibited abandon.

Never had he made love to a woman who claimed to be London Danvers. His fists clenched and he drew dust and sand and pine needles into his palms.

She held him close and he listened to her heart pounding so wildly he wondered how she could breathe with his weight crushed against her. When he finally had some sense of control again, he lifted himself up on one elbow and stared down at her.

Her black hair swept the tops of her breasts, and he shoved the curling strands aside. “You’re too beautiful,” he said, believing her beauty was a curse. So much like Kat, yet so different.

“Why?” She gave him a curious smile that he’d never forget. Sunlight dappled her face and she had to squint and the tree branches shifted in the wind, causing slow-moving shadows to dance over her eyes and cheekbones.

“It’s…well, dangerous, for lack of a better word.”

“To whom?”

“Every male who comes in contact with you and to you yourself.”

“You didn’t make love to me because of my looks,” she said, rolling to her side and stretching lazily. He watched as the bones of her ribs showed beneath her breasts and her abdomen hollowed as she raised her arms over her head.

“Didn’t hurt,” he drawled, watching the play of shadow and light upon her skin.

“No, but that wasn’t the attraction and you know it.” She smiled up at him and in a glimmer of an instant she reminded him of Kat. “You couldn’t resist because I was a challenge, someone you shouldn’t have. Someone you didn’t want.” She stared so intently at him, he looked away. God, she was beautiful and looked so damned much like a woman he needed to forget.

“Wait a minute,” she said, and pushed herself to one elbow. “This isn’t some oedipal thing, is it? You’re not…we’re not here because I remind you of her, are we?” All playfulness left her features.

“Of course that’s not why we’re here.”

“But you and Kat…Oh, God…Zach…”

He faced her again. “I’d be a liar if I said you don’t look like her, or that I don’t see some of her in you. Yeah, yeah, I know that would make you London Danvers and I’m not ready to buy that yet, but let’s face it, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t resemble Kat.”

She reacted as if she’d been stung. Recoiled. Her face a mask of disbelief. “And so this…”-she motioned to the stirred ground where they’d made love-“…was all about her, about being with her, about screwing your stepmother.”

“No.”

“Of course it was,” she said, scooting away and reaching for her clothes. “You’ve told me I look like her, that you had an affair with her, and so you just wanted to see if I could measure up.”

“You really believe that?” he demanded, shock giving way to anger.

“It only makes sense.”

“That’s garbage, darlin’, and you know it!” He rolled over and grabbed her arm, forcing her to drop her top. His fingers coiled possessively over her wrist and he shoved his face to within inches of hers. Their noses nearly touched and he witnessed the shades of blue shift in her eyes. “From the get-go, you practically threw yourself at me,” he pointed out. “You chased me down.” With his free hand he motioned to the horses trying to graze on the grass that grew in patches between the trees. “In fact, you nearly ran me off the edge of the damned cliff.”

“But-”

“So enough of this Kat stuff, okay? Sure, you remind me of her and that’s more of a problem than you know. I’d rather forget her forever, but I’m not going to lie to you just to make you feel good. Yes, you look like her. Near enough to be her damned twin. But the resemblance is only on the outside. Believe me, you are nothing-no-damned-thing-like her! Got it?”

She didn’t answer and he shook her wrist.

“Got it, Adria?”

“I guess.” But she didn’t sound convinced.

“You know. What happened here-between us-isn’t about Kat. Never was. Never will be.”

“All right, all right,” she said, and pulled her arm from his grasp. “You’ve made your point, Danvers.”

“But you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” she admitted. “I don’t even know what I want to believe. You and me…what’s happening?”

“I know.” He glanced up at the heavens. How in the world had he let it go this far? And now that it had, could he ever break it off? When it came to this woman, he couldn’t think straight and he had the unsettling feeling that he would never get enough of her. Maybe she was more like Kat than he’d admitted. Christ, what a mess. When he glanced back at her, she was smiling, as if finding the vexation that had to be evident on his features amusing.

“Funny, is it?” He shook his head.

“More like impossible.”

“I’ll buy that.”

“Of all the things I thought would happen when I came to Portland, I never considered that I’d get involved with one of the Danvers family. I mean, I knew there would be resentment and distrust and a lot of pressure for me to back off, but this…what’s happening between us…believe me, it never crossed my mind until I saw you.”

“And then?”

“Yeah…and then.” She nodded and let out a long breath.

Zach felt a smile crack his lips as he let go of her.

“Yeah, and what is funny, or maybe egocentric is the better word, is that you’re accusing me of chasing you down. Seems just the opposite.”

“Me?”

“Mmm.” She nodded, her dark hair moving against her skin. “I might have chased you but it was, after all, those long, smoky stares you sent my way. After all the times you nearly kissed me, but didn’t. After you drove me up to the Clackamas River with the intention of seducing me, then backed out, I think, just to make me want you more.” She picked up a blade of grass and twirled it in her fingers. “Now I’m the bad guy?” She winked at him and he felt his blood stir again. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Which is?”

He took both her hands in his and regret softened the harsh planes of his face. “That this has gotten way out of control. Way out of control. We both know it.”

“And how’re we going to get back in control, hmm?” she asked as, once again, he reached for his jeans. “By acting like this…attraction doesn’t exist?”

“Maybe.”

“It won’t work”

“Then we’ll find whatever it is that does,” he said gruffly. He started to dress, quickly. He didn’t have time for this. He needed answers and he needed them fast. When he turned, he was surprised that she, too, had thrown on her clothes, though her hair was mussed with pine needles and her face had the glow of a woman satisfied after weeks of deprivation.

She swung lithely onto the back of her little mare, sent a dazzling smile his way, and said, “Race ya,” as he was still yanking on his boots. With a holler that resounded through the trees, she kicked the black and galloped away, her laughter trailing after her. As if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if she wasn’t nursing wounds from an attack. As if no maniac was stalking her. As if she wasn’t involved with a man who could be her half-brother.

“Damn that woman,” he muttered, but he was up for the dare and hoisted himself onto the back of his buckskin. Within seconds he was chasing her, the trees and river flashing by in his peripheral vision, his objective, a woman with streaming black hair, in his sights.

Right or wrong, he was going to catch her, and when he did, he was damned sure the earth would move again.


The last thing Adria expected was for Zach to change his mind, and so quickly. But after she’d talked for hours with reporters and they were virtually assured that her face and story would be in the news yet again, he grew restless and told her that they’d leave and head back to Portland as she’d wanted. First thing in the morning.

Her feelings were ambivalent. She’d love to close off the rest of the world, to stay here with Zach and pretend that nothing else mattered, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t about to give up now.

While Zach was outside, cutting firewood, Adria poured herself a glass of wine and strolled into the den. Cedar walls and a river-rock fireplace surrounded a room filled with worn furniture, baskets of old magazines, and Indian blankets used as throws. Watercolors of horses and cattle and peaceful ranching scenes adorned the rough-cut walls. It was a cozy, well-used room that smelled faintly of ashes and burnt wood. She imagined Zachary spending his evenings here, his boots kicked off, the bottoms of his stockinged feet propped on the timeworn ottoman. A cozy vision, a warm thought, something she could envision herself being a part of. But that was crazy. Just because they’d made love, she was already fantasizing that they had a future together.