Sanctuary Read online

  THE adrenaline carried Jo through that day and into the next. It fueled her, this new ambition. For the first time in her career, she hunted up faces with enthusiasm, began to study and dissect them. She thrilled at the way Giff’s eyes twinkled under the brim of his cap, the way his hand gripped a hammer.

  She hounded Brian in the kitchen, using charm when she could, threats when she couldn’t, to draw the right expression, to produce the right body language.

  Lexy was easy. She would pose endlessly. But Jo’s favorite shot was one of Lexy and Giff, the foolishly happy expressions on their faces as Giff swept Lexy up to spin her in circles just on the edge of the garden.

  She even trooped after her father, using silence to lull him into relaxing, then capturing the quiet thoughtfulness in his face as he looked out over the salt marsh.

  “It’s time you put that thing away.” Sam’s brows drew together in irritated embarrassment as she aimed the camera at him again. “Run along and play with that somewhere else.”

  “It stopped being play when they started paying me. Turn just a little to the right and look out toward the water.”

  He didn’t move a muscle. “I don’t recollect you ever being such a pest before.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m a very famous photographer. Thousands cheer when I aim my lens.” She clicked quickly when a faint smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re so handsome, Daddy. And you look so masterful out here.”

  “You’re so damned famous, you shouldn’t have to flatter people to get their picture.”

  She laughed and lowered the camera. “True enough. But you are handsome. I was taking some shots over at Elsie Pendleton’s. The Widow Pendleton,” Jo added, wiggling her eyebrows. “She made a point to ask after you. Several times.”

  “Elsie Pendleton’s been looking for a man to replace the one she buried since she tossed the first handful of dirt on his coffin. It ain’t by any means going to be me.”

  “For which good sense your family thanks you.”

  He found his lips trembling again, shook his head as much over the reaction as the cause. “You’re awfully chipper today.”

  “A nice change, don’t you think? I got tired of myself.” She crouched down to change lenses. “And it occurred to me that a corner needed to be turned. Maybe coming here was the start of it.” She paused for a moment, just to look out over the shimmering marsh. “Facing some things, myself included. And realizing that maybe if I didn’t feel loved, it was because I hadn’t let anyone love me.”

  She glanced up, saw that he was watching her, searching her face. “Don’t look for her in me, Daddy.” Jo closed her eyes as the pain stabbed through her. “Don’t look for her in me anymore. It hurts me when you do.”

  “Jo Ellen—”

  “All my life I’ve tried to stop looking like her. In college when the other girls were fussing and primping, I held back. If I fussed I’d have to look in the mirror. And I’d see her, just the way you do when you look at me.” Her eyes swam as she straightened. “What do I have to do, Daddy, to make you see who I am?”

  “I do see. I can’t help but see her too, but I do see you, Jo Ellen. Don’t go spilling over on me here. I’m useless with that female stuff.” He stuffed his hands 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 that. But you might want to finish up quick, fast, and in a hurry. Guess who came in on the late ferry?”

  “Brad Pitt.”

  “Don’t I wish? But you might like this better. Nathan Delaney just walked in the kitchen, big as life and twice as handsome. And he’s looking for you.”

  Jo lifted a fist to her
heart and firmly shoved it back in place. “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “I already gave him the cold shoulder for you, sugar. Told him I didn’t see why you should drop what you were doing and come running just because he blew back onto Desire like an ill wind.”

  Jo found her lips curving in appreciation. She could easily visualize the scene, with Lexy playing the chilly Southern Belle to the hilt. “I appreciate it.”

  “But I have to tell you—oh, open this door, Jo. I’m tired of talking through it.”

  Because Lexy had just climbed to the top of Jo’s most favored list, she obliged, snicking open the lock, and opening the door enough that she could lean on the jamb.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him I’m not interested in adjusting my schedule to suit his whims.”

  “I will. That’s nicely put. But Jo, he looks so windblown and sexy and on the edge of something.” Lexy rolled her eyes in pure female appreciation. “It gave my heart a nice flutter just to look at him.”

  “Well, you can just stop fluttering. Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, honey lamb, absolutely one hundred percent.” She kissed Jo’s cheek to prove it. “He has to be punished, no doubt about it. And if you need some advice on how to go about it, I’m more than happy to give you some ideas.”

  “I’ve got plenty of my own, thanks.” But she rolled her shoulders to ease the tension. “Tell him I have no desire to see or speak to him, and that I expect to be busy with a great many more important matters than him for quite some time.”

  “I wish you’d tell him that yourself, just that way. I believe you’ve got a real knack for this.” Lexy’s grin spread wide as she wound a lock of hair around her finger. “I’ll go down and tell him, then I’ll come back up here and tell you what he has to say to that.”

  “This isn’t high school.”

  “No, it’s more interesting and more fun. Oh, I know you’re scalded good and proper, Jo.” She patted her sister’s cheek. “I’d be as spitting mad as a stomped-on cat myself. But just think how satisfying it’s going to be when he crawls. Don’t you take him back until he does. And he comes up with at least two bouquets of flowers and a nice, expensive present. It should be jewelry.”

  Jo’s humor made a rapid return. “Lexy, you’re a manipulative and materialistic woman.”

  “And proud of it, honey. You listen to your baby sister and you’ll end up owning that man. Now I figure he’s been down there waiting and sweating long enough for the next slap.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’ll make it count for you, don’t you worry.”

  Jo stayed leaning against the doorjamb as Lexy flounced away. “I bet you will,” she murmured. “And I’ll owe you big for it.”

  Satisfied, Jo turned back into the darkroom. She tidied her workbench, rearranged her bottles of chemicals, then put them back in their original positions. She examined her nails and wondered if she should let Lexy give her a manicure after all.

  When she heard the footsteps, she turned toward the door, prepared to hear Lexy’s report. When Nathan filled the doorway, his temper shot straight into hers.

  “I need you to come with me.” His voice was clipped and anything but apologetic.

  “I believe you were informed I’m busy. And you haven’t been invited into this room.”

  “Save it, Scarlett.” He grabbed her hand and pulled. When her free one reared back, whipped forward, and cracked hard across his face, he narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Fine, we do it the hard way.”

  The room turned upside down so rapidly she didn’t even get out the curse burning on her tongue. He was halfway out of the room with her slung over his shoulder before she got past the shock enough to fight.

  “Get your goddamn belly-crawling Yankee bastard hands off me.” She punched at his back, furious that she couldn’t manage a full swing.

  “You think you can send your sister to brush me off? In a pig’s eye.” He shoved open the door with his shoulder and started down the narrow stairway. “I’ve been traveling the whole fucking day to get here, and you’ll have the courtesy to listen to what I need to say.”

  “Courtesy? Courtesy? What does a snake oil New York hotshot know about courtesy?” In the confines of the stairway, her struggles only resulted in her rapping her head against the wall. “I hate you.” Her ears rang from both the blow and the humiliation.

  “I’ve prepared myself for that.” Grim and determined, he hauled her into the kitchen. Both Lexy and Brian froze and gaped. “Excuse me,” he said shortly, and carried her outside while she left a trail of threats and curses behind them.

  “Oh.” Lexy sighed, long and deep, holding a hand to her heart. “Wasn’t that the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen in all your life?”

  “Shit.” Brian set down the pie he’d just taken out of the oven. “She’ll rip his face off first chance she gets.”

  “A lot you know about romance.” Lexy leaned against the counter. “Twenty dollars says he’s got her in bed, fully willing, within an hour.”

  Brian heard Jo scream out something about castrating a certain Yankee son of a bitch and nodded. “You’re on, darling.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  JO sat in simmering silence as Nathan drove the Jeep hissing across Shell Road. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of leaping out of a moving vehicle, or of running away once he stopped it. She would simply tear his skin into bloody shreds when they were no longer in danger of running off the road.

  “This isn’t the way I wanted to go about this,” Nathan muttered. “I need to talk to you. It’s important. A hell of a time you pick to pull some lame female cold-shoulder routine.”

  Ignoring her low, purring sound of warning, he dug a deeper hole for himself. “I don’t mind a fight. Under any reasonable circumstances I don’t mind a good kick-ass fight. Clears the air. But these aren’t reasonable circumstances, and you having your nose out of joint is only complicating an already painful situation.”

  “So it’s my fault.” She sucked in her breath as he jerked the Jeep to a halt at the cottage. “This is my fault?”

  “It’s not a matter of fault, Jo. That’s the whole—” He broke off abruptly, too busy defending himself to bother with more words.

  She didn’t go at him with teeth and nails and heated accusations. She waded in with balled-up fists, and the first several blew right past his guard.

  “Jesus! Jesus Christ!” He wished he could laugh at them. He wished to God he could just drag her close, pin those surprisingly well-toned arms with his and just howl at the pair of them.

  He tasted blood in his mouth, wasn’t entirely sure his jaw wouldn’t turn out to be broken, and finally managed to hold her down on the seat while both of them panted for breath.

  “Would you stop it? Would you pull out some modicum of control and stop trying to beat my brains—which I’m assured are in perfect working order—to a bloody pulp?” He tightened his grip, shifting fast as she tried to bring her knee up and render him helpless. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, that’s too bad because I want to hurt you. I want to send you off limping for treating me this way.”

  “I’m sorry.” He lowered his brow to hers and tried to catch his breath. “I’m sorry, Jo.”

  She refused to soften, refused to acknowledge the little trip her heart experienced at the utter despair in his voice. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

  “For more than you know.” He eased back, met her eyes. “Please come inside. I have things to tell you. Things I wish I didn’t have to tell you. After I do, you can beat me black and blue and I won’t lift a hand to stop you. I swear it.”

  Something was wrong, horribly wrong. The anger dropped away into fear. She kept her voice cool before her imagination ran wild. “That’s quite an arrangement. I’ll come in, and you can say what you have to say. Then we’re finished, Nathan.”

  She shoved him away and pushed open her car door. “Because nobody wa
lks away from me,” she said in a low, vibrant voice. “Nobody ever again.”

  His heart sank, but he led the way inside, switched on the lights. “I’d like you to sit down.”

  “I don’t need to sit down, and what you’d like doesn’t interest me. How could you go that way?” Even as she rounded on him, she wrapped her arms around herself in defense. “How could you leave my bed and just go, without a word? And stay away when you had to know how it would make me feel. If you were tired of me, you still could have been kind.”

  “Tired of you? Sweet Jesus, Jo, there hasn’t been a minute of the past eight days that I haven’t thought of you, wanted you.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid enough, or needy enough, to believe that kind of lie? If you’d thought of me, wanted me, you couldn’t have turned your back on me as if none of it mattered. Had ever mattered.”