Sanctuary (49 page)

He had a life of his own, and so did she. Maybe she'd started to lean just a little too much. It was good that he'd jerked that shoulder away so abruptly, forced her to regain her own balance.

When he came back—if he came back—she'd be steadier.

With a moan of disgust, she flipped again, letting her face sink into the water.

Goddamn it, she was in love with him. And if that wasn't the stupidest thing she'd ever done, she didn't know what topped it. There was no future there, and why would she even think of futures? She turned her head, gulped in air, and began to swim again.

They had come together by accident, through circumstance, and had simply taken advantage of it. If they'd gotten closer than they intended, that was a matter of circumstance too. And circumstances changed. She'd changed.

If coming back to Sanctuary had brought some pain and some misery, it had also brought back to her a strength and clear-sightedness that she'd been missing for far too long.

She planted her feet, let the sand shift under her as she walked through the waves to shore.

Lexy was posed on a blanket, stretched out to show off her generous curves. She rested lazily on an elbow, turning the pages of a thick paperback novel. On the cover was a bare-chested man with amazing and improbable pecs, black hair that swirled over his gleaming shoulders, and an arrogant smile on his full-lipped mouth.

Lexy gave a low, murmuring sigh and flipped a page. Her own hair rippled in the breeze. The curves of her generous breasts rose in smooth, peach-toned swells over the minuscule bikini top on which neon shades of green and pink warred. Her long legs were slicked with lotion, and her toenails were a glitter of coral.

She looked, Jo decided, like an ad for some sexy resort.

Dropping down beside her, Jo picked up a towel and rubbed it over her hair. “Do you do that on purpose, or is it just instinct?”

“What's that?” Lexy tipped down her rose-lensed sunglasses and peered over the top.

“Arrange yourself so that every male in a hundred yards strains his neck to get a look at you.”

“Oh, that.” Lips curving, Lexy nudged her glasses back in place. “That's just instinct, sugar. And good luck. You could do the same, but you'd have to put your mind to it some. You've gotten your figure back since you've been home. And that black tank suit's not a bad choice. Looks athletic and sleek. Some men go for that.” She tipped her glasses down again. “Nathan seems to.”

“Nathan hasn't seen me in this suit.”

“Then he's in for a treat.”

“If he comes back.”

“ 'Course he'll come back. You're smart, you'll make him pay just a little for going off.”

Jo scooped up a handful of sand, let it drift through her fingers. “I'm in love with him.”

“Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?”

“In love with him, Lexy.” Jo frowned at the glittering grains of sand that clung to her hand.

“Oh.” Lexy sat up, crossed her pretty legs, and grinned. “That's nice. You sure took your time falling, but you picked a winner.”

“I hate it.” Jo grabbed more sand and squeezed it into her fist. “I hate feeling this way, being this way. It ties my stomach up in knots.”

“It's supposed to. I've had mine tied up dozens of times. It was always real easy to loosen it up again.” Her mouth went into a pout as she looked out to sea. “Until now. I'm having a harder time of that with Giff.”

“He loves you. He always has. It's different for you.”

“It's different for everybody. We're all built different inside. That's what makes it so interesting.”

Jo tilted her head. “You know, Lex, sometimes you're absolutely sensible. I never expect it, then there it is. I guess I need to tell you what I told Brian last night.”

“What's that?”

“I love you, Lexy.” She bent over and touched her lips to her sister's cheek. “I really do.”

“I know that, Jo. You're ornery about it, but you always loved us.” She let out a breath as she decided to make her own confession. “I guess that's why I got so mad at you when you went away. And I was jealous.”

“You? Of me?”

“Because you weren't afraid to go.”

“Yes, I was.” Jo rested her chin on her knee and watched the waves batter the shore. “I was terrified. Sometimes I'm still scared of being out there, of not being able to do what I need to do. Or doing it but failing at it.”

“Well, I failed, and I can tell you, it sucks.”

“You didn't fail, Lexy. You just didn't finish.” She turned her head. “Will you go back?”

“I don't know. I was sure I would.” Her eyes clouded, misted between gray and green. “Trouble is, it gets easy to stay here, let time go by. Then I'll just get old and wrinkled and fat. Oh, what are we talking about this for?”

Annoyed with herself, Lexy shook her head, picked out a cold can of Pepsi from the little cooler beside her. “We should be talking about something interesting. Like, I was wondering . . .”

She popped the top, took a long, cooling sip. Then ran her tongue lazily over her top lip. “Just how is sex with Nathan?”

Jo snorted out a laugh. “No,” she said definitely and rolled over to lie on her stomach.

“On a scale of one to ten.” Lexy poked Jo's shoulder. “Or if you had to pick one adjective to describe it.”

“No,” Jo said again.

“Just one little bitty adjective. I mean, would it be ‘incredible'?” she asked, leaning down close to Jo's ear. “Or would it be ‘fabulous'? Maybe ‘memorable'?”

Jo let out a small sigh. “ ‘Stupendous,' ” she said without opening her eyes. “It's stupendous.”

“Oh, stupendous.” Lexy waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, I like that. Stupendous. Does he keep his eyes open or closed when he kisses you?”

“Depends.”

“He does both? That gives me the shivers. You'd never know which. I just love that. So, how about when he—”

“Lexy.” Though a giggle escaped, Jo kept her eyes tightly closed. “I'm not going to describe Nathan's lovemaking technique for you. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up in a bit.”

And to her surprise, she dropped like a stone into sleep.

N
ATHAN paced the aging Turkish carpet in the soaring two-level library of Dr. Jonah Kauffman's brownstone. Outside, and two dozen stories down, New York was sweltering under a massive heat wave. Here in the dignified penthouse all was cool and polished and worlds away from the bump and grind of the streets.

It never felt like New York inside Kauffman's realm. Whenever Nathan walked into the grand foyer with its golden woods and quiet colors, he thought of English squires and country houses.

One of Nathan's earliest commissions had been to design the library, to shift walls and ceilings to accommodate Kauffman's enormous collection of books in the understated and traditional style that suited one of the top neurologists in the country. The warm chestnut wood, the wide, intricately carved moldings, the tall sweep of triple windows set back to form a cozy alcove had been Nathan's choices. Kauffman had left it all up to him, chuckling whenever Nathan would ask for an opinion.

Now Nathan struggled to compose himself as he waited. This time around, Kauffman was the doctor, and Nathan's present, his future, every choice, large or small, that he would ever make were in Kauffman's skilled hands.

It had been six days since he'd left Desire. Six desperately long days.

Kauffman strode in, slid the thick pocket doors shut behind him. “Sorry to make you wait, Nathan. You should have helped yourself to a brandy. But brandy's not your drink, is it? Well, I'll have one and you can pretend to join me.”

“I appreciate your seeing me here, Doctor. And your doing all ... this yourself.”

“Come now, you're part of the family.” Kauffman lifted a Baccarat decanter from a sideboard to pour two snifters.

He was tall, nearly six five, an imposing man both straight and trim after seventy years of living. His hair remained thick, and he allowed himself the vanity of wearing it brushed back like a flowing white mane. He sported a neat beard and moustache that surrounded his somewhat thin mouth. He preferred the no-nonsense lines of British suits, the elegance of Italian shoes, and he never failed to appear perfectly and elegantly turned out.

But it was his eyes that drew the onlooker's attention first, and most often held it. They were dark and keen under heavy lids and sweeping black brows. Those eyes warmed as he offered Nathan a snifter. “Sit down, Nathan, and relax. It won't be necessary to drill into your brain anytime in the foreseeable future.”

Nathan's stomach did a long, slow turn. “The tests?”

“All of them, and you requested—rather, you insisted on—quite an extensive battery of tests, are negative. I've gone over the results myself, as you asked. You have no tumors, no shadows, no abnormalities whatsoever. What you have, Nathan, is a very healthy brain and neuro system. Now sit down.”

“I will.” His legs gave way easily enough, and he sank into the buttery-soft leather of a wingback, man-size chair. “Thank you for all the time and trouble, but I wonder if I shouldn't get a second opinion.”

Kauffman raised those dramatic black brows. As he sat down across from Nathan, he automatically lifted the pleats of his trousers so they would fall correctly. “I consulted with one of my associates on your tests. His opinion corroborates with mine. You're welcome, of course, to go elsewhere.”

“No.” Though he didn't care for brandy, Nathan took a quick swallow and let it slide through his system. “I'm sure you covered all the bases.”

“More than. The CT and the MRI scans were both perfectly normal. The physical you underwent, the blood work and so forth, only served to prove that you're a thirty-year-old man in excellent health and physical condition.” Kauffman swirled his snifter, brought it to his lips. “Now, it's time you told me why you felt the need to put yourself through such intensive testing.”

“I wanted to be sure there wasn't anything physically wrong. I thought I might be having blackouts.”

“Have you lost time?”

“No. Well, how would I know? There's a possibility that I've been blanking out, doing ... something during—what would you call it—a fugue state.”

Kauffman pursed his lips. He'd known Nathan too long to consider him an alarmist. “Have you any evidence of that? Finding yourself in places without remembering how you got there?”

“No. No, I haven't.” Nathan allowed the relief to trickle through, slowly. “I'm all right, then, physically.”

“You're in excellent, even enviable physical condition. Your emotional condition is another matter. You've had a hideous year, Nathan. The loss of your family is bound to have taken its toll on you. A divorce not long before that. So much loss, so much change. I miss David and Beth so much myself. They were very dear to me.”

“I know.” Nathan stared into those dark, compelling eyes. Did you know? he wondered. Did you suspect? But all he saw on Kauffman's face was sympathy and regret. “I know they were.”

“And Kyle.” Kauffman sighed deeply. “So young, his death so unnecessary.”

“I've had time to cope, to start to accept that my parents are gone.” Even to thank God for it, Nathan thought. “As for Kyle, we hadn't been close in a long time. Their deaths didn't change that.”

“And you feel guilty that you don't grieve for him as you do for them.”

“Maybe.” Nathan set the snifter aside, rubbed his hands over his face. “I'm not sure where the guilt's rooted anymore. Doctor Kauffman, you were friends with my father for thirty years, you knew him before I was born.”

“And your mother.” Kauffman smiled. “As a man who has three ex-wives, I admired their dedication to each other and their marriage. To their sons. You were a lovely family. I hope you can find comfort in the memory of that.”

And that, Nathan thought with a sinking heart, was the crux of it. There could be no comfort in the memories now, and never would be again. “What would make a man, a seemingly normal man living a perfectly normal life, plan and commit an obscene act? An unspeakable act.”

The pressure on his chest forced Nathan's heart to beat too hard, too thickly. He picked up the snifter again, but without any desire to drink. “Would he be insane, would he be ill? Would there be some physical cause?”

“I couldn't say, Nathan, on such general speculation. Do you believe your father committed an unspeakable act?”

“I know he did.” Before Kauffman could speak, Nathan shook his head and rose to pace again. “I can't—I'm not free to explain it to you. There are others I have to talk to first.”

“Nathan, David Delaney was a loyal friend, a loving husband, and a devoted father. You can rest your mind on that.”

“I haven't been able to rest my mind on that since the month after he was killed.” Emotions swirled in his eyes, turning them to smoke. “I buried him, Doctor Kauffman, him and my mother. And I'm very tempted to bury the rest. If I could be sure,” he said softly, “that it's not happening again.”

Kauffman leaned forward. He'd been treating the human condition for half a century and knew there was no healing of the body or the brain without healing of the heart. “Whatever it is you believe he did, you can't bear the weight of it.”