It was right in front of his face, she thought crossly. What was it about men that struck them blind the minute they opened a refrigerator door? "Second shelf."

"I don't-oh, yeah. We always used grape, but strawberry should work. Go ahead and work. Don't mind me."

Nell set Diego by his dish of food. "What are you fixing?"

"Scrambled eggs and rolled-over jelly sandwiches."

"Rolled-over jelly sandwiches." Too tired to argue, she sat. "Sounds perfect. Mrs. Macey called you, didn't she?"

"No. I did run into her, though. She mentioned you were upset about something."

"I wasn't upset. I had a headache. The skillet's in the bottom cabinet, left."

"I'll find what I need. Place isn't big enough to hide much."

"Do you make scrambled eggs and rolled-over jelly sandwiches for everyone on the island when they have a headache?"

"That would depend. I'm making it for you because you tug at me, Nell. Have since I first met you. And when I walk in here and see you looking like something that's been flattened by a passing steamroller, it troubles me."

She said nothing when he cracked eggs, dumped in milk and too much salt. He was a good man, she believed. A kind and decent one. And she had no right tugging at him.

"Zack, I'm not going to be able to give you what you want, what you're looking for. I know yesterday I indicated I could-that I would. I shouldn't have."

"How do you know what I'm looking for, what I want?" He stirred the eggs in the bowl. "And whatever it is, it's my problem, isn't it?"

"It isn't fair for me to give you the impression there can be anything between us."

"I'm a big boy." He put enough butter in the skillet to make her wince. "I don't expect everything to be fair. And the fact is, there's already something between us. You pretending otherwise doesn't change it." He turned around as the butter melted. "The fact that we haven't slept together doesn't change it either. We would have yesterday, if I hadn't gotten that call."

"It would've been a mistake."

"If life wasn't full of mistakes, it'd be a mighty tedious process. If all I wanted was a roll in the sheets, I'd've gotten you there."

"You're probably right-that's my point."

"Right about the mistakes or the sex?" he asked and began slathering jelly on bread.

She decided that even if she had the answer, it wouldn't matter. Kind, decent, he was. And also stubborn as a mule. "I'll make coffee."

"Don't do coffee with this. Calls for tea. And I'll make it."

He filled the kettle, set it on the stove. Poured the eggs into the heated skillet in a sizzling rush.

"Now you're angry."

"I walked in half angry, and one look at you took care of part two. Funny thing, though, I can be pissed off at a woman and hold myself back from knocking her around. That's the kind of amazing self-control I have."

Nell drew a calming breath, folded her hands on the table. "I'm well aware that not every man deals with temper with physical violence. That's the kind of amazing intelligence I have."

"Good for us." He rooted around until he found teabags, an herbal blend he felt more suited to fancy china cups than the solid stoneware mugs she had available.

He scooped eggs onto plates, found forks, and tore off paper towels in lieu of napkins.

He'd said he wasn't much in the kitchen, Nell thought as he set a plate in front of her and went back to dunk the teabags in the mugs. But even here he had an appeal. He never wasted a move, she noted, and wondered if it came from grace or practicality.

Either way, it worked.

He sat across from her, let Diego climb adventurously up the leg of his jeans and knead his thigh. "Eat."

She forked up a bite, sampled. "They're better than they should be, considering you used a pound of salt per egg."

"I like salt."

"Don't feed the cat at the table." She sighed, ate. It was so blessedly normal, sitting like this, eating oversalted eggs and strawberry jelly squished in a piece of folded bread.

"I'm not the mess I used to be," she said. "But I still have moments. Until I don't, I'm not prepared to complicate my life, or anyone else's."

"That's sensible."

"I'm going to concentrate on my work."

"A person's got to have priorities."

"There are things I want to do, things I need to learn. For myself."

"Uh-huh." He polished off his eggs, sat back with his tea. "Ripley said you're scouting for a computer. The rental agency's looking to upgrade a couple of theirs. You could probably get a fair deal. You might want to stop by, ask for Marge. She manages the place."

"Thanks. I'll check it out tomorrow. Why aren't you mad anymore?"

"Who said I'm not?"

"I know how to read mad."

He studied her face. She had some color back now, but she looked exhausted. "I bet you do. Not much point in it." He took his plate to the sink, rinsed it off. "I might brood some later. I've got a real knack for that, according to my sister."

"I used to be a champion sulker." Satisfied that they were back on an even keel, she picked up her plate. "I might see if I can get back into that. You were right about the traditional Todd meal. It did the trick."

"Never misses. Still, grape jelly's better for it."

"I'll stock some, just in case."

"Good. I'm going to let you get back to work. In a minute."

He yanked her against him, jerked her up to her toes, covered her mouth with his in a hot, possessive kiss. The blood seemed to rush to her head, then poured out of it again, leaving her dizzy, weak and achy.

One strangled moan escaped before she was back on the flat of her feet and gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

"Nothing sensible about that," Zack said, "but it's real. You're going to have to shuffle it into your list of priorities. Don't work too late."

He strolled out, letting the screened door slap comfortably shut behind him.

In her dream that night there was a circle. A thin line upon the earth as silver as starlight. Within that sphere there were three women, robed in white. Their voices flowed like music, though the words were strange to her. As they sang, spears of light sprang up from the circle, shimmering bars of silver against the black curtain of night.

She saw a cup, a knife with a carved handle, and sprigs of herbs as green as summer.

From the cup they drank, one by one. And she tasted wine, sweet and light, on her tongue. The dark-haired one drew symbols on the ground with the blade of the knife.

And she smelled earth, fresh and dark.

As they circled, chanted, a pure gold flame spurted in the center. The heat of it warmed her skin.

Then they rose up, above the gold of the fire, above the cool silver of the spears of light, as if they danced on the air.

And she knew the freedom and the joy as the wind kissed her cheeks.