Sanctuary

on the edge, and leading her sister to it, Lexy bit into the apple. “I was passing by the cottage, and there he was, sitting out on the screened porch having some iced coffee. He invited me up.”
    “You don’t like iced coffee.”
    Lexy tucked her tongue in her cheek. “Tastes do change. He showed me some floor plans he’s working on. A Mexican villa.”
    “I wouldn’t think you’d be interested in floor plans.”
    “Oh, I’m interested in all kinds of things.” The devil in her eyes, Lexy took another crunchy bite of apple. “Especially good-looking men. That one’s prime beef.”
    “I’m sure he’d be flattered you think so,” Jo said dryly and slapped the lid down on the hamper. “I thought you were going to see Giff.”
    “I saw him too.”
    “You’ve been busy.” Jo hefted the hamper, slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll lose the light.”
    “Toddle on along then and have a nice picnic. Oh, and Jo? Give Nathan my best, won’t you?”
    When the door slammed, Lexy wrapped an arm around her stomach and howled with laughter. Another tip, Nathan, she thought—rile up that green-eyed monster a bit, then reap the rewards.
     
     
    SHE wasn’t going to mention it. She would absolutely not lower herself to bring it up in even the most casual manner. Jo shifted her tripod, then bent to look through the viewfinder to perfect the angle she wanted.
    The sea beat more violently here, whipping and lashing at the rough beach below the jutting bluff. Gulls wheeled and screamed, white wings slashing across the sky.
    Heat and humidity were soaring, making the air shimmer.
    The south wall of the old monastery was still standing. The lintel over the narrow doorway had held. Through it, light and shadow tangled and wild vines flourished. She wanted that abandoned look—the tufts of high grass, the hillocks of sand the wind built, then destroyed.
    She wanted no movement and had to wait, judge the instants of stillness between gusts of wind. A broad depth of field, she thought, everything in sharp focus—the textures of the stone, the vines, the sand, all the varying shades of gray.
    To accomplish it, she had to stop down, decreasing the aperture, slowing the shutter speed. Tilting her lens slightly more toward horizontal, she framed in, careful to block out the ruin of the remaining walls. She wanted it to look as though the building could be whole, yet was still empty and deserted.
    Alone.
    She took her shots, then carried tripod and camera to the east corner. The texture was excellent there, the pits and scars that wind and sand and time had dug into the stones. This time she used the tumbled walls, capturing desolation and loss.
    When she heard a quiet click, she straightened. Nathan stood just to her left, lowering his camera.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Taking your picture.” He’d managed three before she caught him at it. “You had a nice intense look about you.”
    Her stomach shuddered. Pictures of her, without her being aware. But she forced her lips to curve. “Here, let me have the camera. I’ll take yours.”
    “Better—set the timer on yours and take both of us. In front of the ruins.”
    “This type of view camera, this light, they aren’t made for portraits.”
    “So, we won’t mat it for your next show. It doesn’t have to be perfect, Jo.” He set his camera down. “It just has to be us.”
    “If I had a diffuser ...” Turning her head, she squinted into the sun, then, muttering, changed the camera’s viewpoint to cut back on shadows, calculated the aperture, adjusted shutter speed. She shrugged her shoulders.
    “Jo.” It was a struggle not to laugh. “Think of it as a snapshot.”
    “I will not. Go stand to the left of the opening in the front wall. About two feet over.”
    She waited until he’d walked to the spot she’d pointed out. Through the viewfinder she watched him grin at her. She could do so much better, she thought, if she had some control, had the necessary equipment to manipulate the light and shadows. She’d have been able to highlight his windblown hair, bring out all those different shades of light and dark.
    The light was hard, she decided. It should have been softer, just a little romantic to show off those wonderful eyes, that strong bone structure. With a reflector, some backfill, a diffuser, she could have made this shot sing.
    God, he was attractive. Standing against that worn and pitted stone, he