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tightly she could feel the edges of the bottle pressing lines into her palm. Pausing for a moment to gather her courage, Bryony closed her eyes and drew strength from the rhythmic sound of the ocean outside.
    She had nothing to be afraid of. If her sister's plan didn't work, the rest of the world would read Zach's column and think her a fool. But the people she cared about knew the truth. If the plan did work . . . . If it did . . . . She couldn't even think about that. She didn't dare.
    She padded down the spiral staircase into the living room and crossed to where the others sat at the table. "Bryony," Zach said, letting her name roll wickedly off his tongue. "We thought you were never coming back." He stood and gallantly pulled out her chair.
    Bryony sat down. "No such luck," she said.
    "Now that you're back, we can get going," Kevin said. He looked at Vivien. "Grab your coat, honey, or we'll miss the last show."
    "You're leaving?" Bryony said. She felt panic rise in her throat. "You can't leave. We . . . we have a guest."
    "Oh, I told them I don't mind," Zach said. "In fact, when Vivien explained how much she'd been wanting to see this movie, I urged them to go."
    "But -- but --" Bryony sputtered, giving her sister the evil eye. "Vivien --"
    Her appeal was useless. "Have a good time, you two," Vivien said, winking at Bryony. "We'll be home late."
    A moment later Kevin shut the front door firmly behind them. Bryony decided she would never speak to her older sister again. This was a rotten trick. She turned slowly to Zach, who was standing just behind her.
    "Well. Here we are."
    "Here we are," he repeated, giving the words a lascivious twist. He raked her body with his gaze, lingering on her firm breasts and the fabric skimming her hips. Bryony felt excitement begin a lazy spiral through her body.
    She tried to match his impertinent look with her own. Her eyes lingered on his broad, muscular chest. She couldn't resist dropping her eyes to the flat plane of his stomach under his button-down shirt, and then lower still. That was a mistake. His pants fit well. Extremely well. It was clear that she was alone in the house with a man. A very masculine, well endowed, sensual sort of man.
    Zachary Callahan was not someone to be trifled with.
    Earlier, she had thought she could control him, master him, make him hers. Now, watching the way he took arrogant possession of her using nothing but his eyes, she considerably less sure.
    She gave him a tremulous smile. "If you want to change your mind about this whole thing . . . ."
"Do you?"
    "No," she said.
    "Then let's get on with it." He strode to the table and picked up his glass. It was half filled with sweet dessert wine. "Will this do?"
    Bryony nodded, speechless. She unstopped the bottle and walked to where he stood. With a quick motion of her wrist, she let the amber fluid spill into the glass and mix with the deep burgundy wine.
    Zach swirled the glass so that the two liquid mingled, and then brought it to his lips. He lowered it again without taking a sip, and Bryony's heart rose to her throat. He wasn't going through with it after all. He would tell her it was all a joke, to see how far she would go.
    Then Zach grinned. "Promise you didn't add a dash of hemlock?"
    Bryony laughed, and Zach joined her. The joke broke the tension. "It won't hurt you," she said. "I promise."
    "I believe you." He downed the wine in one gulp and set the glass back on the table. "There. Now what?"
    "I suppose," Bryony said, "we wait and see."
    He checked his watch. "While we're waiting, I'll be getting back to the Sea View Inn."
    "Oh," she gasped, before she could stop herself. Her disappointment showed plainly on her face. Until that moment she hadn't known how much she had hoped -- for what? That he would stay awhile? That they could talk? That he would cover her mouth with his in the deep, passionate kiss she ached for? Bryony quickly schooled her expression to one of unconcern, but it was too