She liked his parents. His sister and brother teased him that she was "the only thing he'd ever got right." Still, this visit to his family was wearing.

The gazebo at the end of his parents' overgrown garden had become her refuge. She lay on the wicker couch there after dinner. She read one of his mother's Agatha Christies and dropped it as the light faded.

The next thing she knew, it was full dark and she was covered with a coat. "I'm here," he said. "Did the lightning wake you?" There was a flash of lightning in the distance, followed by its thunder.

"Thunderstorm!" she said. These always turned her on.

"We could make it back to the house before the rain starts. You could watch the storm from our room."

"Are they likely to come looking for us?" She'd like to stay here with him, but not with others.

"No," he said. "They were getting ready for bed. I said that I would take care of you."

"Let's stay," she said. When she stood up to see the approaching storm more clearly, he stood behind her. He undid the buttons down the back of her dress, keeping his touch light. Then he scratched her back on either side of her spine. She gasped when a bolt struck near them. He pulled her back against him and held her breasts through dress and bra. She couldn't tell whether her nipples hardened in response to him or to the lightning.