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believe the gods brought me here?” Disdain turned to skepticism. Janney had a feeling he really believed what he was saying. She had to keep the conversation going in this direction, because although he was talking about gods, he was shifting toward her like a wolf stalking a lamb. Instinctively, she knew where he was headed. She wasn’t ready for it but she knew it was coming. She tightened her arms around her knees in front of her chest as a barrier.
    “It took a while, but yes, I believe it. The Gods behave oddly at times, interfering in our lives.” Marek extended his arm over the back of the bench and casually crossed one ankle over his opposite knee.
     

     
    “But why? I don’t believe in the gods. One God, yes, but not…” Agitated, Janney dropped her forehead on her knees. She didn’t even have these religious discussions at home with her friends. How can she be having one here in her dream—or fantasy—or whatever this would be called? This fool’s paradise?
    Mm, paradise in his arms? Sitting so near to him, all alone in the garden, in the night…
    “Do you live on a farm? Have goats?”
    “No.” Janney’s face popped up again, startled by his question. She opened her eyes, pulling herself out of her fantasy.
    “I don’t have goats. Where would you get that idea?”
    “You said you were worried about your kids.” He sounded confused.
    She frowned at him, “I don’t understand.” Her attention snapped back again to what he was saying. She’d been wondering if he was going to kiss her. If she would let him.
    “You said you were worried about your kids,” he repeated as if talking to a child.
    “Kids? Children?” Janney was completely baffled. The incongruity of this whole conversation scared her. “What did I say?” “You said you were worried about your mother and your kids. Your goats.” He said each word slowly and distinctly.
    “Goats?” She blinked, and then laughed. She couldn’t seem to stop. Janney buried her face in her hands and laughed.
    Laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks.
    “What’s so funny, Janney Forrester?” Marek’s voice was low and suspicious. Angry. He withdrew his arm and uncrossed his leg as he turned sideways to glare at her.
    “In my life, we call children kids. I’m a teacher. I don’t have any goats.” She giggled again, perilously close to hysteria.
    “Oh,” he said. “I’ll remember that,” he growled.
    “God, I need a drink,” Janney moaned.
    He brushed her hand, reminding her of the goblet already in her hand. The slight touch tingled through her arm and spiked a heated flush up over her cheeks, down her neck to her chest and
     

     
    then further down, just like earlier when he’d taken the gold cuff from her hand. Perspiration formed on her upper lip, under her breasts. Janney gulped too much liquid and coughed. “Um, this wine. It’s potent.” She brushed tears from the corners of both eyes.
    Marek patted her back as he scooted right back next to her.
    “Did you drink too fast?”
    Was he chuckling? “No,” she said. “Not yet, but I’d like to.
    I’d like to get rip-roaring drunk and make this go away.” She took another sip. “You know this wine is very nice. I don’t suppose it’s vintage French. No, I guess it wouldn’t be.” Another chuckle. “Not Californian either, I suppose.” The wine on an almost empty stomach was getting to her. Surely, the heat wasn’t caused by him. But she was afraid she already knew that it was. He turned her on like a switch, without even trying. What hope did she have in the face of his sensual masculinity? Did she really want to be a good girl? Or not?
    “In vino veritas,” Janney continued to babble. Ah, she did know some Latin. “You don’t have to do this.”
    What a goofy thing to say. But it’s not like I’m the sexiest or prettiest woman in the world. God knows, Ed told me that often enough.
    “Mm?”
    “You don’t have to sit here with me.” Janney just