“You’re right again. I hate that. Tell me what you think of him. You’ve talked to him more than I have.”

“I think he’s a very clever man, very astute and very focused. He’s not pushing Ripley with his research because he knows she’ll balk. So he circles around that.”

Mia wandered to the cookie jar, dipped in. “Chocolate chunk. I’m doomed.”

“That’s calculation.” Automatically Nell moved to the stove to brew tea to go with Mia’s cookie. “If he’s using her—”

“Wait.” Mia held up a finger, swallowed. “Of course he’s using her. That isn’t always wrong. She refuses to let him be direct in this area, so he’s indirect. Why should he ignore what she is because she does, Nell?”

“To spend time with her, to play on her feelings. That’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say that, and I don’t think he is. He’s too well mannered. And I think besides being smart, he’s also a very good man.”

Nell sighed. “Yes. So do I.”

“I imagine he’s quite attracted to her, despite the fact that she’s abrasive, annoying, and hardheaded.”

Nell nodded. “That makes sense. You care about her a great deal, despite those facts.”

“I once did,” Mia said flatly. “Your kettle’s boiling.”

“She matters to you. You matter to each other, no matter what happened between you.” Nell turned to deal with the tea and missed Mia’s soulful expression.

“She’ll have to deal with me again, and I with her. Until she accepts who she is, what she is, and what she’s meant to do, she’ll never be open to what you have. You had fear. So does she. So do we all.”

“What’s your fear?” As soon as she asked, Nell turned back. “I’m sorry, but I look at you and see only confidence, such incredible assurance.”

“I fear feeling my heart break a second time, because I’m not sure I could survive it. I’d rather live alone than risk the pain.”

The statement, the quiet truth in it, made Nell’s own heart ache. “You loved him that much?”

“Yes.” It hurt, Mia thought, just to say it. As much as it ever did. “I had no barriers where he was concerned. So you see, it could be dangerous to nudge at Ripley’s. MacAllister Booke is part of her destiny.”

“You know that?”

“Yes. Looking isn’t interfering. They’re connected to each other. But what they do about it, the choices made, are for them alone.”

There was no arguing with Mia’s logic. But . . . there was no reason not to choose pink candles for the table. She neither charmed nor inscribed them. The color being that used for love spells could be purely coincidental.

She already had rosemary potted on the windowsill, for cooking, of course. And also to absorb negative energy. It was true that that particular herb was used in love charms, but that was neither here nor there. Nor was the rose quartz tumbled in a bowl, nor the amethyst crystals that stimulated intuition. It wasn’t as if she’d made a charm bag.

She’d used Zack and Ripley’s grandmother’s china, the silver candlesticks she’d unearthed weeks before and polished to a gleam, an antique lace tablecloth that had been a wedding present, and a centerpiece of lily of the valley that she’d forced to keep the winter gloom away. The wineglasses had been another wedding gift, and their garnet stems went well, she thought, with the pale pink candles and the rosebuds on the china.

She was so intent on judging the results that she jumped when Zack came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Pretty fancy.” He rubbed his lips over her hair. “The table hasn’t looked like that in . . . Come to think of it, I’ve never seen it look like that.”

“I want it to be perfect.”

“I don’t see how it could look better. Or smell better. I nearly fell to my knees in reverence when I passed through the kitchen. How come Rip’s not helping you out? It’s her date, isn’t it?”

“I chased her out half an hour ago. She was in my way. And so”—she turned, kissed him briefly—“are you.”

“I figured you needed somebody to sample some of those little canapé things you’ve got in the kitchen.”

“No.”

“Too late.” He grinned at her. “They’re great.”

“Zack. Damn it, I had them arranged.”

“I scooted everything in,” he told her as he followed her back into the kitchen. “No gaps.”

“Keep your fingers out of the food or I won’t make beef stew and dumplings with the leftovers.”

“Nell, honey, that’s downright mean.”

“No sulking. Now, let me look at you.” She stepped back, skimmed her gaze over him. “My, aren’t you handsome, Sheriff Todd.”

He hooked a finger in the belt of her slacks. “Come over here and say that.”

She obliged, was just lifting her mouth to his when she heard the knock on the front door. “That’s him.”

She broke free, dragged off her apron.

“Hey, come back here. Ripley can get the door.”

“No, she can’t. She needs to make an entrance. Oh, just—” She waved a hand at him as she hurried out. “Go put on some music or something.”

Mac brought wine and flowers, and earned Nell’s approval. Three times, that Nell counted, he touched Ripley’s hand as they enjoyed appetizers in the living room.

It was comfortable, as she’d wanted, casual as she’d planned. And watching the two of them together she felt a nice warm glow. By the time they settled down in the dining room, Nell was already patting herself on the back.

“Of all the places you’ve been,” she asked Mac, “which is your favorite?”

“Wherever I am is always my favorite. Three Sisters is like this perfect little slice of the world.”

“And the natives are friendly enough,” Zack added.

“They are.” Mac sent Ripley a grin as he ate his roast. “Mostly.”

“We discourage munching on missionaries and explorers these days.” Ripley stabbed a potato.

“Mostly.”

“Lucky for me. I’ve had some interesting interviews. Lulu, the Maceys.”