“Don’t tell me you really don’t want her here? That doesn’t sound like you, two bits.”

How could she be so ungenerous of spirit, when Zach was so very generous? What kind of inhuman, insensitive daughter wouldn’t do anything to help her mother through a bad time? “Of course I want her here,” Bett said vibrantly, and meant it. “Zach, it was so good of you to ask her…”

Zach drew back and kissed her on the nose. “Settled then?” he asked briskly.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Come on.” He turned and pulled her toward the door. “We have a very serious problem on the back forty we need to take care of.”

“Pardon?”

Bett was still in a distracted mood until she realized where Zach was driving. The landscape around the pond disclosed no problem that she could see. Night had fallen on the farm like black silk. It was still tropically warm, but the hush of evening was soothing, a stillness one could almost breathe in. Crickets chirped in the cattails, and the fragrance of ripening peaches was a thick, sweet perfume that filled the air.

Zach turned off the ignition and just looked at her, his face half in shadow, his eyes fathomless and dark. “There’s a blanket in back.” He gave her no chance to respond to that, reaching for her swiftly, tugging her close to him in that sweet darkness. His tongue slowly traced her lower lip, then her upper one. He dried the faint moisture with his fingertip. His touch was very gentle, very soft, very slow.

Bett half closed her eyes, willing a dozen vague anxieties to disappear from her mind. She’d wanted to be with him, and she’d wanted him-like this-all day. Worries about her mother’s visit had sabotaged those feelings, yet the simple intimacy of just being held gradually melted that tension. When Zach’s mouth covered hers, a little more of that anxiety seemed to vanish. Zach, at times, could be very hard to resist. Zach, at times, could have some very strange powers over her.