He couldn’t help but laugh. The panel that had closed behind him would shatter with one kick, but he’d hate to damage the house. Plus, he was having too much fun. For a man who never got close to anyone, he was loving being close to Tuesday.

“Even if I stand on your shoulders, I can’t reach the slats above.”

“We should try anyway,” he suggested. “I’m starting to feel like a tree you’re climbing.” One of her shoes dropped and he cupped his hand beneath her foot to hold her up. Her bare waist brushed against his lips.

“You taste great,” he whispered.

She patted him on the head. “You are a very noisy tree.” The other shoe dropped. “Can you lift me higher without kissing your way down my body? Keep in mind that if you don’t behave and we live, I will kill you later.”

He lifted her higher. “I’ll be a perfect gentlemen, but it’s not going to be easy.” He listened to her patting the wood above them as her body brushed against him. She was slender but soft. He breathed her in, inch by inch.

“Lower me,” she finally said. “It’s hopeless.”

As he lowered her to the step, his arms closed around her. “It’s all right. I can get us out, but I hate to shatter the wood.”

“I thought of that. There has to be another way.”

Ketch leaned his hand behind her to kiss her. He’d waited long enough. She was inches away from him and the nearness was driving him mad.

Just before his mouth reached hers, the wall behind her gave.

Tuesday squealed and twisted against him to turn into a tiny open stairway. Then, like a spider, she climbed up.

He was right behind her, climbing toward the pale light.

A moment later they crawled onto the dusty floor of an attic, both laughing.

Long windows slanted into the roof, showing the land below. The trees she’d said her great-grandfather had planted from the stream all the way up the hill. Grannie Eva’s huge vegetable garden, now still sleeping in winter, lay east of the house. And the first blooms of flowers planted everywhere beside paths weaving among the trees.

From this lookout point, Ketch realized he could see pretty much every foot of her land.

He sat beside her on a quilted cushion almost wide enough to be a bed, his elbow on his knee as he studied the land. From this angle he couldn’t see another structure, not even the road. All the world seemed made up of only nature. “The architect who built this place was a genius. The whole house is built to catch the light and show off the beauty of nature. This little space was a private lookout.”

He leaned back against the quilt to look up at the cloudy sky.