He managed to pull her back from the edge. Her face had gone sheet-white, and tremors jerked from her so that her skin seemed to bump against his palms.
"Steady," he murmured and gathered her against him. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"No. " The fear had come and gone rapidly, and left her feeling like a fool. Because her heart was still thumping, she let herself be heldwondered how long it had been since anyone had put arms around her and let her rest there. "No, it was nothing. Stupid. There was a guy at the campground a couple of nights ago. He said something similar. He scared me."
"I'm sorry."
she let out a long sigh. "Not your fault, really. My nerves are a little close to the surface these days."
"He didn't hurt you?"
"No, no, tie never touched me. It was just creepy."
she left her head against his shoulder, started to close her eyes. It would have been so easy to stay there. Being held. Being safe. But easy wasn't always the right way. Or the smart way.
"I'm not going to sleep with you, Nathan."
He waited a moment, letting himself enjoy the feel of her snug against him, the texture of her hair against his cheek. "Well, then, I may as well drown myself in the river right now. You've just shattered my lifelong dream."
He made her want to laugh, and she squelched down the bubble in her throat. "I'm trying to be up front with you."
"Why don't you lie to me for a while instead? Soothe my ego." He gave her ponytail a little tug, and she lifted her head. "In fact, why don't we start with something simple and work our way up to complications?"
she watched his gaze dip down to her mouth, linger, then slide slowly back up to her eyes. she could almost taste the kiss, feel the hum of it on her lips. It would be simple to close her eyes and let his mouth close over hers. It would be easy to lean forward and meet him halfivay.
Instead, she lifted a hand, pressed her fingers to his mouth. "Don't."
He sighed, took her wrist and skimmed his lips over her knuckles. "Jo, you sure know how to make a man work for his pleasures."
"I'm not going to be one of your pleasures."
"You already are." He kept her hand in his and turned to walk to Sanctuary. "Don't ask me why."
Since he didn't seem to expect her to comment on that, or to make small talk, Jo walked in silence. she was going to have to think about this ... situation, she decided. she wasn't foolish enough to deny that she'd had a reaction to him. That physical, gut-level click any woman recognized as basic lust. It was normal enough to be almost soothing.
she might be losing her mind, but her body was still functioning on all the elemental circuits.
she hadn't felt the click often enough in her life to take it for granted. And when it was so obviously echoed in the man who caused it ... that was something to think about.
For now, at least, this was something she could control, something she could understand, analyze, and list clear choices about. But she suspected that the trouble with clicks was that they caused itches. And the trouble with itches was that they nagged until she just gave the hell up and scratched.
"We'll have to make this quick," she told Nathan and headed toward the side door.
"I know. You're on bed-making detail. I won't keep you long. I'm planning on sniffing around Brian until he feeds me."
"If you're not busy, you might talk him into getting out afterward. Going to the beach, doing some fishing. He spends too much time here.
"He loves it here."
"I know." she turned into a long hallway where a mural of forest and river flowed over the wall. "That doesn't mean he has to serve Sanctuary every hour of every day." she pressed a hinge, and a section of the mural opened.
"That's an odd way to put it," Nathan commented, following her through the opening and up the stairs into what had once been the servants' quarters and was now the private entrance to the family wing. "Serving Sanctuary."
"It's what he does. I suppose it's what all of us do when we're here."
she turned left at the top of the stairs. As she passed the first open door, she glanced into Lexy's room. The huge old canopy bed was empty. Unmade, naturally. Clothes were scattered everywhere-on the Aubusson carpet, the polished floor, the dainty Queen Antic chairs. The scents of lotions and perfumes and powders hung on the air in female celebration.
"Well, maybe not all of us," Jo muttered and kept walking.
Taking a key out of her pocket, she unlocked a narrow door. Nathan's brows lifted in surprise when he walked in. It was a fully equipped and ruthlessly organized darkroom.
An ancient and threadbare rug protected the random-width-pine floor; thick shades were drawn down and snugly fastened to stay that way over twin windows. Shelves of practical gray metal were lined with bottles of chemicals, plastic tubs. On others were boxes of thick black cardboard, which he assumed held her paper, contact sheets, and prints. There was a long wooden worktable, a high stool.