Sacred Sins

two people. One of them was weepy, desperate, almost pleading. The other—the other was aloof, fanatical, and determined.”
    “He's only one person when he strangles women.” He rose and walked toward the phone. “I'm calling in. We'll want to put a tap on your phone, here and at your office.”
    “At the office? Ben, I often talk to patients over the phone. I can't jeopardize their right to confidentiality.”

    “Don't give me grief on this, Tess.”
    “You have to understand—”
    “No!” He whirled to face her. “You have to understand. There's a maniac out there killing women, and he decided to call you. Your phones get wired, with your permission or with a court order, but they get wired. Four other women didn't have the chance. Captain? This is Paris. We got a break.”

    I T took less than an hour. Two cops in suits and ties came in, did what seemed to be a few minor adjustments to her phone, and politely refused the offer of coffee. One of them picked up the receiver, punched a few numbers, and tested the tap. They took Tess's spare key to her office and went out again.
    “That's it?” she asked when she and Ben were alone again.
    “These are the days of the microchip. I'll take some of that coffee.”
    “Oh, sure.” With a last glance at the phone, she went into the kitchen. “It makes me feel exposed, knowing that whenever the phone rings, someone with a set of headphones is listening to everything I say.”
    “It's supposed to make you feel protected.”
    When she came back in with the coffee, Ben was standing by the window, looking out. She saw him deliberately close the curtain when he heard her behind him.
    “I can't be sure he'll call back. I was frightened, I'm sure he sensed it, and dammit, I didn't handle it very well.”
    “I guess you lose your standing as supershrink.” He took the coffee, and her hand. “Aren't you having any?”
    “No. I'm already too wired up.”

    “You're tired.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. She looked so fragile all at once, so pale and beautiful. “Look, why don't you go in, get some rest? I'll bunk out on the couch.”
    “Police protection?”
    “Just part of our campaign to improve community relations.”
    “I'm glad you're here.”
    “So am I.” He released her hand to run a fingertip down the closure of her silk kimono. “Nice.”
    “I've missed seeing you.”
    The movement of his finger stopped. He looked at her again and remembered that earlier in the evening she'd worn earrings, and a stone at her throat that had matched her eyes. And he'd wanted to touch her so badly that it had hurt, bone deep. Now, as he had before, Ben backed off.
    “Got an extra blanket?”
    She knew withdrawal when it smacked her in the face. As he had, she took a step back. “Yes, I'll get it.”
    When she'd gone, he swore at himself and stood straining against his own contradictions. He wanted her. He didn't want to get involved with anyone like her. She pulled at him. He pushed back. She was cool and lovely, in the way of pink-and-white delicacies behind bakery store windows. He'd already had a taste of her, and knew certain delicacies could be habit-forming. Even if he had room for her in his life, which he didn't, she would never fit. But he remembered again how she'd leaned against his windowsill, laughing.
    She carried a blanket and pillow back in and began to make up the sofa.
    “You don't act like you want an apology.”
    “For what?”
    “For last week.”

    Though she'd been determined not to mention it herself, Tess had wondered if he'd bring it up. “Why would I want an apology?”
    He watched her tuck the ends of the blanket neatly under the cushion. “We had a pretty fair argument going. Most of the women I—most women I know want to hear the old ‘I'm sorry I was a jerk.’”
    “Were you?”
    “Was I what?”
    “A jerk.”
    He had to admit she'd maneuvered him very nicely. “No.”
    “Then it would be foolish for you to say you were, just to hold up tradition. There, that should do,” she added as she gave the pillow a final fluff.
    “All right, dammit, I feel like an idiot about the way I acted the last time.”
    “You were an idiot.” Tess turned from the sofa to smile at him. “But it's all right.”
    “I meant a lot that I said.”
    “I know you did. So did I.”
    Opposite sides, Ben thought. Opposite ends. “So where does that leave us?”
    If she'd known, she wasn't sure she could have told him. Instead