Treasures aka See How She Dies

The moon was small, just a sliver, but gave off enough light so he could see the stands of trees flanking the rambling ranch house and outbuildings. The house was lit like a Christmas tree, patches of warm light glowing through the windows. Kat was still awake, prowling the rooms. He caught glimpses of her now and again, moving restlessly from one window to the next, and he decided he wouldn’t slip through the French doors to his room until all the lights had been turned down and he knew that she was asleep. So far, he’d avoided her, but he wouldn’t be able to sidestep her forever.

He opened a can of Coors and beer foamed over the side. He took a gulp, catching most of the overflow when he heard the old dog let out a quiet bark, then the unmistakable sounds of footsteps walking unerringly to the stable. His heart nearly stopped. Seconds later the rungs of the ladder to the hayloft clicked as someone climbed to the top. Now what?

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