Cupid’s Confederates

husband’s brows and went back to fastening the second sandal. “Now, just don’t ask. You’ll be happier.”

“I’m happy enough.”

She shook her head, straightening up. “You have that ‘difficult’ look on your face.”

“What I have is a strong inclination to put you to bed. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the better part of a week.”

“I’ve got energy coming out of my ears,” she assured him. She flashed him a smile as she crossed swiftly to the dresser. She picked up a hairbrush and rapidly restored her hair to order, unobtrusively glancing worriedly at the mirror at the same time. Did she really look so tired that he noticed? she wondered.

Behind her, the sunset was pouring pastel rays through the windows on either side of their double bed. The vaulted ceiling and huge domed windows were Zach’s designs. Her choices were the gentle yellow color of the carpet and fabrics, and closets that had enormous mirrors on the doors. Nasty things to clean, those mirrors, but then a few candles and darkness and bare skin and those mirrors-and Zach-could produce a remarkable number of variations on a theme…

“Is there some particular reason you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” his baritone growled behind her.

“Of course there is,” Bett said cheerfully. Finally, her hair lay silken and still on her shoulders. She set down her brush. “You wouldn’t approve.” Spraying on a quick whiff of perfume, she turned. “For no good reason. Not to worry.”

“Then why am I worried?”

“Now, we’re giving you a perfect chance to put your feet up in peace for an evening,” Bett teased, but her light tone was at total variance with the sudden rush she made for the door. Zach had to be faster than lightning to catch her, but suddenly his hands were at her waist and the door was behind her. Her husband had the magical ability to appear huge at will. The whole range of her vision was filled with his short-sleeved navy blue sweatshirt. The chest it covered wasn’t remarkably different from the door in terms of flexibility.

She tilted up her head and looked into Zach’s eyes. A whole bluer-than-blue sky couldn’t have been that full of laughter. She considered making another escape attempt, but didn’t have the chance before he placed a kiss on her mouth. The kind designed to remind her that it had been far too long since they had last made love. “Lord, you’re a tease,” he murmured.

She was the tease? He’d refined the practice since they’d been married. His tongue slipped between her parted lips and sought hers. Ever so gradually, a steady, unconscious tension that had gripped her for days relaxed; a languid weariness flowed through her body. His tongue continued to play a game of thrust and parry, very gentle, very provocative. No hurry, said the movements of Zach’s tongue, as if something inside him was quite aware she’d been leading the life of a racehorse all week.

When Zach took over, he took over. The race was over, and she found slow motion infinitely preferable to fast. Her fingertips slowly walked up his forearms, up the soft material covering his shoulders, up and into his hair. He seemed to like that quite well, because when he finally came up from the first kiss for air, on the inhale he was already dipping down for the second. That one lasted until he’d thoroughly mussed her hair and run his hands all the way down to her bottom and back up again. Bett was clinging to him, rubbing her hips in a most private rhythm against his hard thighs. Zach flicked open the collar of her dress to press a kiss against her collarbone. “Now, where is it you’re certainly not going?” he murmured idly.

“To a psychic,” Bett answered, and leaned her cheek into his shoulder. She felt Zach stiffen, and sighed. “I had a feeling you heard me,” she said dryly. “Mom read this card on the bulletin board in the grocery store two days ago and called the guy. He reads…auras. She’s decided to…um…have a little chat with Dad.”

Zach very definitely pulled back then. “Let’s hear that again?”

Bett’s hands fluttered in the air. Anxiety darkened her eyes, but at the same time a hint of humor softened the curve of her lips. “Mom…she seems to feel it’s about time she let go of grieving, which you know I’d do anything to help her with! But she’s so set on this idea. She figured that one last chance to contact Dad-”

“When exactly did your mother lose her mind?”

“Be nice,” Bett coaxed.

“I’m being very nice.”

“Zach, she is going. Now, there’s no talking her out of it; I tried. And obviously I couldn’t let her go alone. The Lord knows what she’d get herself into…” Bett caught her breath. “It’ll probably be fun. Ghosts and levitation and stuff…”

Zach pushed back his hair with a thoroughly perplexed frown. He held back the expletive on the tip of his tongue. Bett was so tired she could barely stand up straight, but her eyes stared determinedly up at him. Lord, she was a stubborn little minx! “So how much is the resident ghost hunter taking her for?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t know. Neither does she. Mom doesn’t care.” Bett clearly did.

“You want me to talk to her?”

“If I thought it would do any good, I’d say yes. Unfortunately, I really believe she’d just sneak off to him sometime when she thinks we don’t know about it, and then I would worry-”

“Yes.” He had the measure. Bett had been roped in. She didn’t need anyone giving her a hard time. His eyes held hers, half filled with humor. “If there are black candles and they ask for a show of hands for a virgin sacrifice, don’t volunteer.” His half-smile died when she didn’t return it. “How bad can it be, some guy who advertises in a grocery store?” he asked wryly.

“Mmm.” Bett chewed on her lower lip, and moved out of his arms to reach for the brush again. Zach had no appreciation for hairstyles. He was a toucher. “That isn’t exactly why I thought you wouldn’t approve of the idea.”

“What exactly is the part I’m supposed to object to?”

“Nothing, really.” It was just the place they were going. Kind of a rural slum on the edge of nowhere, the tag end of a poor farming community about twenty miles away. Anyone with a suicide wish could wander around there at night without any problem. “I’m sure its reputation is vastly overrated. So it’s a poor area. Zach, that doesn’t necessarily mean-”

“Oh, no. But I should have guessed where the local psychic would hang his shingle.”

Unsmiling, Zach pulled off his sweatshirt and reached into the closet for a short-sleeved blue shirt.

“Zach, you don’t have to go. Really.”

Buttoning his shirt, he was inclined to take both women over his knee. The older one for a spanking. The other one to cuddle up.

***

Pushing the gearshift into neutral, Zach leaned forward and peered through the windshield. The pitch-black gravel road had never seen a streetlamp. A single swaying lantern creaked back and forth over a peeling sign that read:

Reverend Moody, Spiritualist

Psychic Readings

Seances Healings

Appointment Only

He and Bett exchanged a dry glance. There wasn’t much they could tell from the exterior of the ranch house; it was too overgrown by shrubbery and low-hanging trees to get a good look at it. Bett had relaxed from the time she knew Zach was coming along, but the mood was still rather eerie. A chill had touched the back of her neck and was more than ready to travel up and down her spine at a moment’s notice. Zach couldn’t have been less affected, as he matter-of-factly leaned over the back seat with a carefully serious expression on his face.

“Listen, Liz. No need for all of us to go in, now is there? You two stay in the car; I’ll just pop in there and… um…talk to Chet, and then-”

“Oh, no, Zach. I’ve talked to the Reverend Moody three times in the last two days, and I definitely have to be there. I thought you knew all about psychic spirits? When you said you were coming, you told me how interested you’d always been-”

“Mmm,” Zach grumbled as he cut the engine and jerked out of the car. Opening the door for his mother-in-law, he watched Elizabeth dart out and start up the dark, winding path, as excited as a little kid, her hands firmly