“No. I mean yes, I… don’t know. I… I —”

“That’s okay. You haven’t had long to think about it. And it must seem… strange.”

I nodded. “Yes. More than strange. Impossible.”

“Tell me something,” Ian said after a moment.

“If I know the answer.”

“It’s not a hard question.”

He didn’t ask it right away. Instead, he reached across the narrow space and picked up my hand. He held it in both of his for a moment, and then he trailed the fingers of his left hand slowly up my arm, from my wrist to my shoulder. Just as slowly, he pulled them back again. He looked at the skin of my arm rather than my face, watching the goose bumps that formed along the path of his fingers.

“Does that feel good or bad to you?” he asked.

Bad, Melanie insisted.

But it doesn’t hurt, I protested.

That’s not what he’s asking. When he says good… Oh, it’s like talking to a child!

I’m not even a year old, you know. Or am I now? I was sidetracked, trying to figure out the date.

Melanie was not distracted. Good, to him, means the way it feels when Jared touches us. The memory she provided was not one from the caves. It was in the magic canyon, at sunset. Jared stood behind her and let his hands follow the shape of her arms, from her shoulders to her wrists. I shivered at the pleasure of the simple touch. Like that.

Oh.

“Wanda?”

“Melanie says bad,” I whispered.

“What do you say?”

“I say… I don’t know.”

When I could meet his eyes, they were warmer than I expected. “I can’t even imagine how confusing this all must be to you.”

It was comforting that he understood. “Yes. I’m confused.”

His hand traced up and down my arm again. “Would you like me to stop?”

I hesitated. “Yes,” I decided. “That… what you’re doing… makes it hard for me to think. And Melanie is… angry at me. That also makes it hard to think.”

I’m not angry at you. Tell him to leave.

Ian is my friend. I don’t want him to leave.

He leaned away, folding his arms across his chest.

“I don’t suppose she’d give us a minute alone?”

I laughed. “I doubt it.”

Ian tilted his head to one side, his expression speculative.

“Melanie Stryder?” he asked, addressing her.

We both started at the name.

Ian went on. “I’d like the chance to speak with Wanda privately, if you don’t mind. Is there any way that could be arranged?”

Of all the nerve! You tell him I said no chance in hell! I do not like this man.

My nose wrinkled up.

“What did she say?”