Sanctuary

meaning sex.”
    He got to his feet fast. “That’s not what I meant. Lexy—”
    “I know.” She blinked impatiently at the tears. She wanted to see him clearly. “I know it’s not what you meant. And I’m not stepping back, I’m just trying to get hold of myself before I act like a fool.”
    “I love you, Lexy.” He said it quietly so she would believe him. “I always have and always will love you.”
    She closed her eyes tight. She wanted it all engraved on her memory. The moment—every sound, every scent, every feeling. Then she was launching herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him, her breath coming in tiny little hitches that made her dizzy.
    “Hold me. Hold on to me, Giff, tight. No matter what I do, no matter what I say, don’t ever let me go.”
    “Alexa.” Swamped by her, he pressed his lips into her hair. “I’ve always held on to you. You just didn’t know it.”
    “I love you too, Giff. I can’t remember when I didn’t. It always made me so mad.”
    “That’s all right, honey.” He smiled, snuggled her closer. “I don’t mind you being mad. As long as you don’t stop.”
     
     
    IN her bedroom, Jo carefully hung up the phone. Bobby Banes had finally gotten in touch. And had given her at least one answer.
    He hadn’t taken the print from her apartment.
    But you saw the print, didn’t you? It was a nude, mixed in with all the shots of me. It looked like me, but it wasn’t. I was holding it. I picked it up. You must have seen it.
    She could hear her own voice, pitching into panic, and the concern and hesitation in Bobby’s when he answered.
    I’m sorry, Jo. I didn’t see a print like that. Just those ones of you. Ah . . . there wasn’t any nude study. At least I didn’t notice.
    It was there. I dropped it. It fell facedown on the other prints. It was there, Bobby. Just think for a minute.
    It must have been there . . . I mean, if you say you saw it.
    His tone had been placating, she thought now. Sympathetic. But it hadn’t been convinced.
    Sick and shaky, she turned away from the phone, told herself it was useless to wish he hadn’t called, hadn’t told her. It was better, much better, to have the truth. All she had to do now was live with it.
    From her bedroom window, Jo looked down on her sister and Giff. They made a pretty picture, she decided. Two young, healthy people locked in each other’s arms, with flowers growing wild and ripe all around them. A man and woman sparkling with love and sexual anticipation on a summer afternoon.
    It looked so easy, so natural. Why couldn’t she let it be easy and natural for herself?
    Nathan wanted her. He wasn’t pushing, he didn’t appear to be angry that she kept that last bit of distance between them. And why did she? Jo wondered, watching as Giff tipped Lexy’s face up to his. Why didn’t she just let go?
    He stirred her. He brought her pleasure and set something to simmering inside her that hinted the pleasure would spread and deepen if she allowed it.
    Why was she afraid to allow it?
    In disgust she turned away from the window. Because she questioned everything these days. She watched her own moves, analyzed them clinically. Oh, she felt better physically. The nightmares and slick-skinned panic attacks were fewer and farther between.
    But...
    There was always that doubt, the fear that she wasn’t really stable. Why else could she still see in her mind that photograph, the photograph of the dead woman? One minute her mother, the next herself. The eyes staring, the skin white as wax. She could still see the texture of the skin, smooth and pale. The shades and sweep of the hair, that artfully spread wave of it. The way the hand had been draped, elbow bent, arm crossed between the breasts. And the head turned, angled down as in shy slumber.
    How could she see it so clearly when it had never existed?
    And because she could, she had to believe she was still far from well. She had no business even considering a relationship with Nathan—with anyone—until she was solidly on her feet again.
    And that, she admitted, was just an excuse.
    She was afraid of him—that was the bottom line. She was afraid he would come to mean more to her than she could handle. And that he would expect more of her than she could give.
    He was already drawing feelings out of her that no one else ever had. So she was protecting herself with cowardice that wore a mask of logic.
    She was tired of being logical and afraid. Would it be so