Sanctuary

came back.
    He loved her. No, he thought he loved her, she corrected. That was a different level entirely. Still, it was a step she hadn’t expected him to take. And one she was afraid of tripping over.
    She walked to the water’s edge, let the surf foam over her ankles. There, she thought, when the tide swept back and sucked the sand down under her feet. That was exactly the same sensation he was causing in her. That slight and exciting imbalance, that feeling of having the ground shift under you no matter how firmly you planted your feet.
    She’d wanted him, and she chipped away at his defenses until she won that battle. Now the stakes had gone up, considerably higher than she’d ever gambled on before.
    She’d been very careful to do the picking and choosing in personal relationships. And she’d chosen Brian Hathaway. But somewhere along the way the angle had changed on her.
    He wouldn’t speak of love lightly, not Brian. She could. But not with Brian, she realized. If she said those words, she would have to mean them. And if she meant them, she would have to build on them. Words were only the foundation.
    Home, family. Permanence. She would have to decide if she wanted those things at all, and if she wanted them with him. Then she would have to convince him that he wanted them with her.
    It wouldn’t be simple. The bruises and scars from his childhood kept anything about Brian from being simple.
    She lifted her face to the wind. Hadn’t she already decided? Hadn’t she known in that split second when she saw him bleeding, when fear swept all professional calm aside, that her feelings for him had gone well beyond lust?
    It scared her. She was afraid she would indeed trip over that step. And more, she was afraid to commit to taking it. Better to take it slow, she decided. To be sure of her footing. She handled things better if she was calm and clear-sighted. Certainly something as important as this should be approached with caution and a cool head.
    She ignored the little voice snickering inside her head and turned back to walk home. The glint far across the dunes made her frown. The second time it flashed, she realized it was the setting sun’s reflection off glass. Binoculars, she thought with a shiver. With a hand shielding her eyes, she could just make out a figure. The distance made it impossible to tell whether it was male or female. She began to walk more quickly, wanting to be inside again, behind closed doors.
    It was foolish, she knew. It was just someone watching the beach at sunset, and she simply happened to be on the beach. But the sensation of being watched, of being studied, stayed with her and hurried her steps toward home.
     
     
    SHE’D spotted him, and that only made it more exciting. He’d frightened her, just by being there. Chuckling softly, he continued to frame Kirby in the telephoto lens, snapping methodically as she rushed along the beach.
    She had a beautiful body. It had been a pleasure to watch the wind plaster her shirt and slacks to it, outline the curves. The sunlight had glowed on her hair, turning it a rich, burning gold. As the sun had dipped lower at his back, all the tones and hues had deepened, softened. He was pleased that he’d used color film this time.
    Oh, and that look in her eyes when she’d realized someone was there. The lens had brought her so close, he’d nearly been able to see her pupils dilate.
    Such pretty green eyes, he thought. They suited her. Just as the swing of blond hair suited her, and that soft, soothing voice.
    He wondered what her breasts would taste like.
    She’d be a hot one in the sack, he decided, snapping quickly before she disappeared around the dunes. The small, delicate types usually were, once you got them revving. He imagined she thought she knew all there was to know about anatomy. But he figured he could show her some tricks. Oh, yes, he could show the lady doctor a few things.
    He remembered an excerpt from the journal that seemed to fit the moment and his mood. The rape of Annabelle.
    I experimented, allowing myself full range to do things to her that I have never done to another woman. She wept, tears streaming down her cheeks and dampening the gag. I had her again, again. It was beyond me to stop. It wasn’t sex, was no longer rape.
    It was unbearable power.
    Yes, it was the power he wanted, the full scope of it, which he had not achieved with Ginny. Because Ginny had been defective, he reminded himself. She had been