Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  Dana never socialized with her students. But Kara was only taking the summer workshop. She glanced at Ruth, who said, "I think it would be okay."

  Dana nodded. "I’ll call Patrick."

  Joe grinned. "I already did. We’ve got your table at The Red Apple set for five."

  "You were pretty sure of yourself, Sergeant Moretti."

  "Nope," he said, winking at Kara. "I was sure of this one."

  Dana’s heart melted a little more.

  ***

  THAT NIGHT AFTER he dropped the girls off at their mother’s house, a new worry plagued Joe, one he couldn’t ignore as a father. After the initial high of basking in Kara’s accomplishments, he had to analyze the predicament. So he went jogging to think this through. He’d decided to risk his heart on Dana, but in doing so, he’d drawn his kids into their relationship. If things didn’t work out between him and Dana, Joe could survive, but he’d seen Kara’s deep sense of connection to Dana—probably on a professional level that he knew nothing about. And then there was fragile Kae. Ruth had taken her under her wing, and Kae had bloomed like a flower opening to the sun. Joe wished he could do all that for his girls, but he couldn’t. And if he and Dana didn’t make it, they would suffer. Well, he thought, philosophically, the workshop was only a week. Maybe when there was no immediate contact, his daughters would get over their feelings for Dana.

  And how about you, Joe? Are you going to get over her if the relationship ends? The answer to that question was simple. He could survive Dana dumping him. He’d done it before, though he felt something special—different—for the woman right from the beginning. That wasn’t the issue. Truth be told, he was bothered by her infirmity. Part of it was unselfish—he hated seeing her have to compromise her life like she had. It just about broke his heart. But part of it was completely self-centered. There was so much to consider, so many inconveniences for him. He wondered what making love with someone in her condition would be like.

  Joe stopped running and bent over to catch his breath. How fucking shallow can you be, Moretti? Dana was a wonderful person and he’d come to care about her in such a short time.

  What would his father say? What had he said? That he hated being disabled. He hated when he was treated badly, differently, because of his disability. Beneath it, he was still the same man as before, right up until he couldn’t eat, breathe or function in any way on his own. People shunned him, avoided him, made judgments about him based on his condition.

  "Damn it, I’m not going to be that kind of man!" Joe said aloud. "I’m just not going to. I’ll see where this goes."

  With a better attitude, Joe starting running again. No way was he going to keep his kids away from her. No way was he going to become someone his father didn’t like!

  ***

  "YES!" DANA RAISED her free hand into the air. The other held a cue stick.

  "It’s a terrific break." Joe leaned against the wall, watching her. As always, he looked good, wearing unbelted blue jeans and a gauzy shirt, tucked in, rolled up at the sleeves. He’d said online he was into clothes and it showed. They fit him like good friends.

  The air-conditioning cooled the room, because it was end-of-the-summer-hot outside, and Dana wore a cotton sleeveless top and black jeans. She knew she looked good in them, too, still, even now with her legs useless.

  He waved his own pool cue around to encompass the space he and Dana occupied. "I still can’t get over this setup."

  In one of the spare bedrooms, Ruth and Dana had placed a pool table, which converted into ping-pong with a slab. They’d knocked out the wall, making a connecting room to the one where they kept weight equipment and a massage table, along with other things Dana could utilize to stay in shape.

  "I’m one of the lucky ones," she said, tracking his gaze. "People in my rehab center didn’t have this to come home to."

  His mouth tightened, but he said, "You’re a good person to call yourself lucky."

  "Really, you wouldn’t believe how many of them were so worse off than me." She still gave money to the center she’d recovered in and had always wanted to volunteer at one in Rockland but had never found the time.

  Joe got a faraway look in his eye. It made her ask, "Have you ever been to one of the centers, Joe?"

  "Yeah, a couple of times, when I was little." He turned his attention to the table. "Keep going."

  Hesitating briefly at his incomplete response, she turned to the table again. "Eight ball in the corner." As Dana called each shot, she moved the chair to an appropriate position, leaned over the table and sunk the ball. She had to use a bridge, but that was allowed for people in chairs.

  He was watching her, she knew, which made her smile the whole time. That distraction, though, caused her to miss a shot after only six balls. Often, she ran the table.

  Pushing away from the wall, he squeezed her shoulder before she backed away. He was a toucher, no doubt about it. Dana used to be, before she got hurt, but since then, she kept people at bay physically as well as emotionally. This time, though she couldn’t keep herself from basking in the demonstrativeness of this man.

  He gave her competition in the game, but she still beat him—three times in a row. With a sham scowl, he crossed to her and ruffled her hair. "That’s it, Miss Minnesota Fats. I’ve been sandbagged."

  Dana laughed. "Yep, you have. Ruth and I play all the time."

  He returned both her cue and his to the holder, then approached her again. "That’s good to hear. You don’t laugh enough."

  "I don’t." When he came close, his scent, reminiscent of the outdoors, encompassed her. She had to keep from inhaling. "You, um, want a consolation prize?"

  "Depends on what it is."

  "You’ll like this. Lean over." He did. And she gave him the very first kiss that she initiated. She started slow, used some tongue, then threw herself into it. After a few moments, she eased back. "Hungry?"

  He shot a quick glance toward her bedroom on the other side of them. "For what?"

  "For food!"

  "Hmm. That, too." He stepped away, smiling—grinning, really.

  "Come on, we’ve got a cold supper waiting."

  She wheeled out ahead of him, feeling less self-conscious this time. Already, her comfort level with him had been boosted dramatically by his matter-of-fact attitude and sometimes blasphemous humor. "You said online you like shrimp and Caesar salad."

  "I like anything my mother doesn’t cook." He rolled his eyes. "She brought me food when I got shot. The girls refused to eat it."

  "Your mom isn’t Julia Childs?"

  "Hardly. But she has so many good qualities. I love her to pieces."

  "That’s sweet. It’s nice how close you are to your family."

  "Your mom died when you were little, right?"

  "Yes. She was a dancer but contracted breast cancer. She had great plans for me, which my dad carried on with. I think that was why he was leveled when I got hurt."

  "He was leveled? Jesus."

  "No, he was. Our relationship was based on my dancing, and when that got taken away, we didn’t have much together."

  They’d reached the kitchen and he snagged a stool with his foot and plopped down. "That’s really sad. I like how my family takes care of me—and me them, though Spence is a tough cookie to help out. Cole’s easy."

  "Hmm."

  "Is your father still alive?"

  "He died a few years ago. I saw him some after I first moved here, but then even that went by the wayside."

  She maneuvered over to the fridge. It sported double doors and was half the height of a regular one. Everything was within her reach. From the bottom shelf, she pulled a bottle of Chardonnay. "Wine or beer?"

  "Wine."

  After she got the opener and was struggling with the angle of the bottle, she glanced up and saw Joe staring at her intently, his hands fisted at his sides. He obviously wanted to help in the worst way, and as she’d said, she usually didn’t like others to do that. But she took pi
ty on him, rolled over, handed him the bottle and pointed to a low cupboard. "Glasses in there."

  She proceeded to make the salad, again at a counter she could roll under. The lettuce was already washed, so the task of setting out food was done quickly. "You know," she said thinking about her dad now. "You don’t ever talk about your father other than to say he died, too, when you were young."

  His mile-wide shoulders stiffened instantly. "Yeah, I don’t like to talk about him."

  "Why?"

  He shrugged. "Lots of reason. Looks like everything is done. Let’s eat."

  Huh, he was pretty good at dodging questions. But Dana knew what it was like to want to avoid certain subjects and let his evasion go. She’d find out more about his dad soon enough.

  Dinner was fun. Joe ate with gusto, making Dana enjoy her food more. When they’d finished, he sat back and sighed. "That was great."

  "You enjoy food."

  "I’m half-Italian. Of course I enjoy food."

  They talked about their nationalities and some of their other favorite things that they hadn’t discussed on line.

  Then Joe stood. "I’m cleaning up."

  "No, I—"

  "Uh-uh. Number one rule in our family. Whoever cooks doesn’t have KP. Now go away. I can find my way around the kitchen."

  Instead, she sat where she was, sipping her wine, enjoying the view, especially how his butt was gloved by the denim when he bent to load the dishwasher. His actions were efficient and he was done in ten minutes. She did notice how inconvenient the height of the counters and sink were for him. He was a lot taller than Ruth, who also had to bend to reach them. She’d never thought much about how her needs could inconvenience others.

  "At the risk of opening myself for more innuendo, I’ve got dessert. I made a chocolate–ice cream roll."

  "Not yet." A gleam came into his eye. "I want to do something first."

  Her nerve endings tingled. "What?"

  He hitched a hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "I’ve been thinking about something all day. Ruth went to a movie with her girlfriend, right?"

  "Yes."

  "There’s no guy in her life?"

  Dana shook her head. "I wish there was. I think she’s still attractive, and of course she’s a saint with what she does for me. She should be fussing over a man."

  "Then let’s find her one on RightMatch.com."

  That piqued Dana’s interest. "Really?"

  "Actually, it was Cole’s idea. We were talking about Ruth, and I told him how I insulted her and then she went on to help Kae. I said I wished I could do something for her. He said there was a huge sixties-and-over crowd on his website as he’d recently put up an offshoot for that age group only. I asked him for the code so we can get in."

  Dana laughed again. "You, JoeyD, are a devil."

  They sat on the taupe leather couch in the family room, using Dana’s laptop. Joe accessed the website, then the application and typed as Dana gave him information. Ruth was sixty, had no children, a widow. She was a pool shark, too, but liked tennis. "She never plays," Dana said. "My fault. She’s too busy with me."

  Joe kissed her on the cheek. "Now she’ll have more time. Like tonight. And maybe we’ll get a match on here with somebody who plays the game, too."

  They got into questions that weren’t made public on the site but would give the psychologist Cole employed more information to make a better match.

  He read the first aloud. "If you had the ability, what would you change in your past?"

  "Ruth’s would be for the night I got hurt never to have happened." She cocked her head. "What would you put down for this, Joe?"

  Joe hesitated as if he was reluctant to answer this question. "That I hadn’t hurt my knee. Then again, I would have missed so much with police work."

  "There is that." She sighed. "I wish I could have finished out my dancing career."

  He kissed her nose. "I’m sorry you couldn’t."

  Other questions were just as personal. "What’s one thing you currently want in life that you’ve kept hidden from others?"

  "I don’t know Ruth’s, of course."

  "I don’t have one." Joe’s face shadowed. "I guess I’ve learned not to want things I probably can’t have."

  She was silent.

  "What’s yours?"

  Dana shook her head. She was opening up to him but couldn’t make a complete leap in one night.

  He tipped her chin. "What did you put down for that, sweetheart?"

  "It’s really personal. Maybe someday I can share it with you, but not now. I’ve…never told anybody. Not even Ruth."

  Because Dana could hardly admit the wish to herself, as it was so not going to happen. She was forty years old. In a wheelchair. Both things conspired against getting pregnant and carrying a healthy child to term. Even more of a deterrent was her inability to care for a baby and toddler by herself. She’d given up on the dream of being a mother a long time ago.

  Joe said simply, "I’ll wait till you feel you can tell me."

  When they finished with the questionnaire, Dana smiled at him. "I’m so glad we’re doing this. How will the rest work?"

  "Cole said he’d expedite the processing. If we send it tonight, we’ll have some matches in a day or two. It’s all done by computer algorithms, but the psychologist oversees everything. The benefit to a smaller site."

  "What will we do with them?"

  "I hadn’t gotten that far." He submitted the application, put the laptop on the table, then turned to face her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "Give it some thought."

  This close, he made her brain fuzzy and so thinking eluded her.

  ***

  AS HIS MOUTH covered Dana’s, Joe knew he should tell her about his father.

  As she cuddled into him, opened up—literally and figuratively—he admitted keeping his dad’s condition and its effect on him unspoken was the wrong thing to do. Even if Ruth hadn’t given him an ultimatum, his conscience told him this was the time to confess.

  And as she let him open her blouse, revealing blue lace that covered high, firm breasts, as she let him cup her and moaned with his ministrations, Joey knew he was making a big mistake in keeping his secret.

  But when he unfastened the front closure of her bra, he nonetheless deliberately withheld the vital information and steeped himself in the pleasure her body gave him.

  ***

  "HEY, LOOK WHO’S here!" One of his buddies, a paramedic in the Rockland Fire Department, was about ready to serve the volleyball over the net when Joe reached the sandy square where he and his friends played every Tuesday night in the summer. He’d missed two sessions since he’d gotten hurt and once he’d become involved with Dana. It felt good to be back. "Hey, everybody."

  The game stopped and the members of The Sundowners, named so because they got together mostly after work, jogged over to say hi, inquire about his health, ask if he could play yet. Most of them had called after the shooting and some had visited. The group, in one form or another, had been together for ten years and played a variety of sports, depending on the season.

  "I may try a game or two. Let me watch first."

  Joe had wanted to come here tonight to see his friends and he’d been hoping he could indeed get in some games. He needed more exercise. Fun exercise like the sports he played with these guys. Running and weights weren’t enough for him. He craved athletic competition in his life.

  Sitting on a bench, letting the soft breeze off the lake soothe him, he greeted other people who would rotate in and out, as the club always had more players than they could field. It was then that he saw Evie Falk a few seats down. When she caught sight of him, she rose and came to sit beside him.

  "Well, hi there, handsome." Her smile was genuine, even though, when she’d asked to see him again after hiking, he’d explained he’d started dating someone around the time of the accident. Though he and Dana had only seen each other a few times, Joe had no
desire to date other women and he believed she wasn’t seeing anyone else either.

  "Thanks for putting me in touch with the Sundowners, regardless of…you know, your budding love life." She was grinning, teasing him.

  He appreciated her candor. "No problem."

  Evie looked around. "Where is she?"

  Joe hadn’t asked Dana what her plans were for tonight when he’d picked up Kara from dance. Since he suspected she would feel uncomfortable here, he hadn’t told her where he was going. But she could have come to watch. He wouldn’t play that much, if at all, so she’d have company on the sidelines. The truth was, though, that he’d wanted to come alone. Hell, they didn’t spend every night together and he was entitled to have boy’s night out. She had said numerous times, she didn’t want him to give up any of his activities for her. As he’d told Shelly, he could still keep this part of his life. And why was he belaboring his decision to come alone?

  "Joe?"

  "She’s busy tonight." He nodded to the court. "Man, I’m dying to get some action out there."

  "Your shoulder ready?"

  "I’m going back to work next week, so I think so."

  "Evie, come on in," Susan, a long-time member of the group and someone Joe had dated in the past, called out. "I’ll take a break and talk to our wounded warrior."

  "See you later, buddy. Watch that shoulder if you play." Evie walked away with a sexy sashay, which he noticed.

  "Hey, hotshot." Susan dropped down beside him and sipped from a bottle of water. She was sweaty and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "How’s it going?"

  "It’s going great."

  "Want to come with us for a beer afterward?"

  "Sure, I’d planned to stop at Pelican’s with everybody."

  Part of the fun of the group was hanging out after the game of the night. He pictured the bar on the waterfront. It had a ramp. Was one floor but really, really crowded. The john would have to be handicap accessible by law. Once again, Joe realized he’d be analyzing these things and a million more, whenever he went somewhere with Dana. Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?

  For a while, Joe sat and watched Evie leap and jump and spike the ball with the ability of a pro athlete. She was probably good at every sport she played. He felt twinges of guilt for appreciating her athletic ability, and they bothered him through the night. But he admired physical prowess in women. And he’d often dated women from the club, so they shared the proclivity with him.