Sanctuary

in his pockets and turned away. “You get hold of yourself now. It’s Lexy who leaks at the drop of a hat, not you. Damn girl’ll leak if you look cross-eyed, and if she isn’t leaking she’s flouncing. She don’t marry that Giff soon and get on with things, I’ll lose my mind.”
    Jo gave a watery chuckle. “Why, Daddy, I didn’t know you loved her enough to let her drive you crazy.”
    “ ’Course I love her. She’s mine, isn’t she?” He spoke gruffly and made himself turn back to face Jo. “So are you.”
    “Yes.” She smiled and let the ache pass away. “So am I.”
     
     
    WHEN the light no longer pleased her, Jo locked herself in her darkroom. There was excitement there as well. From film to negatives, from negatives to contacts. These she pored over, scrutinizing details, flaws, shadows through her loupe.
    Out of a dozen she might select one that satisfied her strict requirements. Still, her drying line filled rapidly with prints she felt were worthy. When she came to an unmarked roll of film, she clicked her tongue in annoyance.
    Careless of her, she thought. She set the timer, flicked off the lights, and began the developing process. The dark soothed her. She could move competently, even mechanically, by feel alone. Anticipation hummed. What would she see here, what would she find? What frozen moment would be preserved forever simply because she had chosen it?
    She turned on the red bulb, washed the room in that eerie workman’s lighting. And gave a choked cry that was part shock, part laughter as she stared at the negative of herself, nude, sprawled on Nathan’s carpet.
    “Jesus, that’ll teach me not to mark film.”
    She held up the roll, studying the other negatives. The ones she’d taken of the storm looked promising. And her mouth pursed as she examined the earlier shots, ones Nathan must have taken along the way.
    There was one of dunes, across the meadow where the flowers were blooming and the sea beyond rolled in a high, frothy crest.
    Decent composition, she mused. For an amateur. Of course if she bothered to take it to contact stage, she’d undoubtedly find several major flaws.
    Her eyes were drawn back to the end of the roll. Her own face, her own body. Even as her hand reached for the scissors to destroy the negatives, she paused. Was she going to be that prudish, that stubborn, and not satisfy her own curiosity?
    She was the only one who had to see them, after all.
    On impulse, she set back to work. It couldn’t hurt to make a set of contacts from the roll. She could destroy the ones of herself later. After she’d taken a good look at them.
    She didn’t hum along with the radio as she worked now. She felt too uneasy, and too excited, to hear the music that tinkled out.
    The sheet was barely dry when she slapped it onto her light table and applied the loupe. She caught her breath as the images enlarged and focused.
    She looked so ... wanton, she supposed would be the word. Her eyes half closed, her lips just curved in obvious sexual satisfaction. Her body looked almost ripe. Apparently she had gotten her figure back without even noticing. She certainly had curves.
    In the next her eyes were fully open and round with shock. Her hands were halfway up to her breasts, movement frozen by the fast film. There was no denying that she looked—how had he put it? Rumpled and sexy?
    Oh, God, she had never allowed herself to be that exposed to anyone before. She’d let that happen, and now for just a moment, she could admit she wanted to let it happen again.
    She wanted to let him touch her, to make her feel desired and reckless. There was a yearning deep in the pit of her stomach to be that woman again, the woman he’d seen and captured on film. To let him take control of her, and to know that she had the power to take control of him.
    He’d given that to her, and by preserving that moment, had made her look straight at it and see what she could have with him. And what she could lose without him.
    “You bastard, Nathan. I hate you for this.”
    She got up quickly, stuffed the sheet deep into a drawer. No, she wouldn’t destroy it. She would keep it, as a reminder. Whenever she felt herself tempted to trust a man again, to give that much to a man, she would take it back out, study it.
    And remind herself how easily they walked away.
    “Jo Ellen.” Lexy’s voice came through the door as her knock sounded sharp and loud.
    “I’m working in here.”
    “Well, I know