Sanctuary

her shoulder, she ripped off a scream and sent her coffee mug flying.
    “Jesus! Jesus, Jo!” Bobby Banes scrambled back, scattering the mail he carried on the floor.
    “What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?” She bolted off the stool and sent it crashing, as he gaped at her.
    “I—you said you wanted to get started at eight. I’m only a few minutes late.”
    Jo fought for breath, gripped the edge of her worktable to keep herself upright. “Eight?”
    Her student assistant nodded cautiously. He swallowed hard and kept his distance. To his eye she still looked wild and ready to attack. It was his second semester working with her, and he thought he’d learned how to anticipate her orders, gauge her moods, and avoid her temper. But he didn’t have a clue how to handle that hot fear in her eyes.
    “Why the hell didn’t you knock?” she snapped at him.
    “I did. When you didn’t answer, I figured you must be in here, so I used the key you gave me when you went on the last assignment.”
    “Give it back. Now.”
    “Sure. Okay, Jo.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he dug into the front pocket of his fashionably faded jeans. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”
    Jo bit down on control and took the key he held out. There was as much embarrassment now, she realized, as fear. To give herself a moment, she bent down and righted her stool. “Sorry, Bobby. You did spook me. I didn’t hear you knock.”
    “It’s okay. Want me to get you another cup of coffee?”
    She shook her head and gave in to her knocking knees. As she slid onto the stool, she worked up a smile for him. He was a good student, she thought—a little pompous about his work yet, but he was only twenty-one.
    She thought he was going for the artist-as-college-student look, with his dark blond hair in a shoulder-length ponytail, the single gold hoop earring accenting his long, narrow face. His teeth were perfect. His parents had believed in braces, she thought, running her tongue over her own slight overbite.
    He had a good eye, she mused. And a great deal of potential. That was why he was here, after all. Jo was always willing to pay back what had been given to her.
    Because his big brown eyes were still watching her warily, she put more effort into the smile. “I had a rough night.”
    “You look like it.” He tried a smile of his own when she lifted a brow. “The art is in seeing what’s really there, right? And you look whipped. Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
    Vain was one thing Jo wasn’t. She shrugged her shoulders and rubbed her tired eyes. “Not much.”
    “You ought to try that melatonin. My mother swears by it.” He crouched to pick up the broken shards of the mug. “And maybe you could cut back on the coffee.”
    He glanced up but saw she wasn’t listening. She’d gone on a side trip again, Bobby thought. A new habit of hers. He’d just about given up on getting his mentor into a healthier lifestyle. But he decided to give it one more shot.
    “You’ve been living on coffee and cigarettes again.”
    “Yeah.” She was drifting, half asleep where she sat.
    “That stuff’ll kill you. And you need an exercise program. You’ve dropped about ten pounds in the last few weeks. With your height you need to carry more weight. And you’ve got small bones—you’re courting osteoporosis. Gotta build up those bones and muscles.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “You ought to see a doctor. You ask me, you’re anemic. You got no color, and you could pack half your equipment in the bags under your eyes.”
    “So nice of you to notice.”
    He scooped up the biggest shards, dumped them in her waste can. Of course he’d noticed. She had a face that drew attention. It didn’t matter that she seemed to work overtime to fade into the background. He’d never seen her wear makeup, and she kept her hair pulled back, but anyone with an eye could see it should be framing that oval face with its delicate bones and exotic eyes and sexy mouth.
    Bobby caught himself, felt heat rise to his cheeks. She would laugh at him if she knew he’d had a little crush on her when she first took him on. That, he figured, had been as much professional admiration as physical attraction. And he’d gotten over the attraction part. Mostly.
    But there was no doubt that if she would do the minimum to enhance that magnolia skin, dab some color on that top-heavy mouth and smudge up those long-lidded eyes, she’d be a knockout.
    “I could fix you breakfast,” he began.