He dropped the wetsuit on the patio, pulled off his dripping shirt, and swooped her into his arms again.
“You have got to stop doing that,” Emmy said through rattling teeth, doing everything in her power not to look at his bare chest. Sadly, there was nothing she could do about his bulging muscles brushing against the skin of her arm, sending warmth through her chills.
Josh raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. At the locked door, he paused. She typed in the code and he swung it open, then waited as she disabled the alarm system.
“Blankets and first aid supplies?” he asked.
“Upstairs.” Emmy pointed. He carried her up the stairs and into her master bedroom. He set her on her feet but kept an arm around her waist. Pulling the blanket off her reading chair, he wrapped it around her and rubbed her hands, arms, and back through the blanket. Her extremities pricked with pain as the warmth returned.
“That better?” Josh asked.
She could only nod. All this physical contact was making her zing. The pull she felt toward him was more intense than ever. She glanced up. He was so close. His warm breath touched her forehead as she stared into those blue eyes. He smelled like salt water, and she wondered if he’d taste the same.
Josh’s hands stilled on her back. He didn’t try to pull her closer. He just studied her, the desire he felt evident in his gaze.
“Emmy?” he whispered. Asking permission. For what? To kiss her?
Emmy felt herself rising up to meet him as he leaned down. She almost nodded before shaking her head and hopefully knocking some sense in. The head shake caused the throbbing to start again. “Ouch.” She pressed a hand to the back of her ear.
Josh took a deep breath and shook his own head, blinking a couple of times. “Do you have any saline?”
“In the bathroom.”
He kept an arm on her back and helped her into the bathroom. Grabbing the saline from the medicine cabinet, he gently tilted her head over the sink and washed off the sand and blood behind her left ear. She winced at the pain.
“You don’t need stitches.” Josh patted it dry with a hand towel. The gentle movements should’ve been comforting, but with him looking at her like he couldn’t stand to pull his eyes away, she was feeling anything but comfortable. She licked her lips and forced herself to meet his direct gaze.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked, his voice low and husky.
“Yes, thank you.” But not all the warmth was from the blanket. Even with it wrapped around her shoulders, she was aware that her Speedo swimsuit didn’t cover up as much skin as she’d like. She couldn’t believe he was in her house. Part of her still wanted to kick him out, but she not only needed his help, she wanted it.
Josh helped her back to her bedroom and sat her in the overstuffed chair. He returned to the bathroom, coming back with tissue, a Band-Aid, and Neosporin. Kneeling next to her polka-dotted chair, he blotted away the remaining blood, put Neosporin on the Band-Aid, and then lifted her hair to press it into the right spot.
Emmy trembled. His tender movements made her doubt every suspicion she’d had. Was he some kind of gentle giant, or just faking it to get her to trust him?
“I only needed one Band-Aid?” From how bad her head throbbed, she assumed she’d been injured a lot worse than that.
“Yeah.” He brushed the hair away from her face and neck, focusing on her eyes for a few seconds before dipping his head to look at the wound.
Emmy found herself holding her breath. His hands on her skin were heavenly. She’d hit her head repeatedly to have him touch her like that.
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Josh asked. “You won’t need stitches, but you might have a concussion from hitting your head on that rock.”
Emmy was instantly dragged back to reality. “No, I hate that hospital.” She’d begged the EMTs to take Grayson to the hospital even though they were saying words like “DOA” and “Echo condition”. She just couldn’t have lived with herself if there’d been some kind of miracle the hospital could’ve performed.
She’d sat in the waiting room of the Providence Seaside Hospital for half an hour, praying and crying for a miracle before they told her he was gone. She’d known that the second she’d seen him stabbed in their basement, but she couldn’t let herself believe it. The false hope as she’d waited and prayed had almost killed her. She knew she’d disillusioned herself, but vowed she’d never go back to that hospital.
“Well.” Josh cleared his throat. “The other option is I stay here and watch over you.”
Emmy gaped at him as he squatted next to her chair in his wet shorts. She couldn’t help glancing over his chest and shoulders. Oh my. “Um, no. Absolutely not. I’ll call my neighbor. She’ll come over and stay with me. I’m fine.”
His eyes filled with sadness before he blinked and gave her a smile. “Okay. That sounds great. I’ll bring you a phone.”
Emmy only had to endure a few more minutes of looking at him and feeling his eyes on her before Kelton’s mom, Abby, arrived. Emmy thanked Josh and then Abby directed him downstairs. Emmy closed her eyes, listening to Josh tell her friend what to watch for in case of a concussion and then say goodbye.
Abby pounded back up the stairs. With her hand over her generous bosom, she grinned at Emmy. “Now what did you do right in heaven to get rescued by that fine creature?”
Emmy closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m not sure if that one was a punishment or a reward.”
Abby whistled, her dark braids bouncing happily. “I’d say definite reward. To see him in nothing but a pair of shorts? I’d go swim in that freezing ocean and hit my own head on a rock.”
Emmy half laughed, not willing to admit she’d probably do it all over again to spend more time alone with him. “I’m sure Tyrell would love to hear you talking like that.”
Abby pushed a hand through the air. “Oh, he knows everyone in town has a huge crush on Captain Campbell. He’d just laugh at me. Now, what can I get you? Hungry? Thirsty? Ready for a bath? Some Tylenol? You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital and have them check out your head?”
During the barrage of questions and answers, Emmy found herself thinking about Josh. He was so kind and competent. Guilt filled her as she realized she had no clue where he lived, and though he was probably as cold as her, she hadn’t offered him a towel or a blanket. Had he walked home in nothing but his shorts? The idea made her flush all over again.
q
Josh retrieved his sopping shirt from Emmaline’s back porch and then went down to the beach to find his shoes. They were soaked. He picked them up, shoved his socks in, and started walking home in the driving rain.
For some reason, he was embarrassed. He’d saved Emmy’s life. He should feel like some sort of hero, but instead he kept thinking of how he shouldn’t have taken every chance to touch her. Not that he’d touched anything he shouldn’t, but just the feel of her skin was heaven.
He swallowed hard, remembering the pressure of her in his arms. She was almost impossible to resist, but he should’ve tried harder. At least he hadn’t kissed her or taken any more advantage of the situation, which he also realized he easily could’ve done when she leaned up toward him. Did she feel the same pull of attraction he did? Most of the time he’d say no, but once in a while he wondered.
He walked through the rain-slicked streets the half mile inland to his small home. The driving rain pelted off his bare skin and chilled him further, but he allowed himself a small smile. At least he’d broken some of the barriers with her. The other times he’d seen her the past year, fire had shot from her eyes. When he reassured her that the police were working hard on her case or apologized for her misfortune, she’d snapped at him. He grinned. The turtle was not a bad analogy. But tonight he’d seen a softness in her, a vulnerability. Unfortunately, it just made her more attractive.
A car squealed down the road behind him with no headlights on, giving Josh little warning. It hurtled out of the dark
and darted toward the sidewalk. Josh sprinted for the safety of a small porch. The black car dug through the wet grass, glancing off his hip and leg. Josh leapt onto the porch, and the car fled onto the street and out of sight.
Josh limped back to the street to catch the license plate, but he moved too slowly and it was too dark. With the rain clouding his vision, the best he could do was guess at a make and model.
“Drunk drivers,” he muttered, but something about the deliberate way they’d aimed at him made him wonder. He rubbed at his hip. Luckily the car had barely clipped him. He already felt the bruise swelling, but it could’ve been much worse.
No one came out of their houses or noticed his near miss. Four houses in a row had their lights off and one had a for-sale sign in the front yard. Pricks of uneasiness added to the cold chilling his chest and arms. Josh hurried to his house, knowing he had nothing to report to the police but wanting to call one of his buddies on the force anyway. They’d been supportive of him throughout the investigation of Grayson’s murder, and Housley had become a close friend.
Josh walked in his back door and dropped all his wet clothes in the laundry room. After calling Housley and sharing his suspicions, he headed for the shower. His bungalow was nothing like Emmy’s huge home, but it was clean, comfortable, and his.
Since moving to Cannon Beach, Josh had been flirted with and asked out by many of the women in town, but he only had eyes for the one woman who sometimes acted like she hated the sight of him.
Sadly, her grief and anger over her husband’s murder seemed to be tied up with him. He hadn’t been as in control of his feelings as he should’ve been tonight and hopefully that wouldn’t hurt his chances even more, but he did feel like he was making progress. Maybe in another couple of years she’d actually want to be around him.
7
THE DAY WAS GRAY. The drizzly rain saturated Emmy’s hair until the excess moisture dripped down her face. You’d think after two years of living in Oregon she’d learn not to leave the house without a raincoat.
She knelt next to Grayson’s headstone, trailing her fingers over his name. The upright headstone was a beautiful white marble, shining through the darkness of the many storms. Emmy loved the personal touches on it—a laptop computer, a golf club, and a picture of him. She and his mom had designed it together, and thankfully his parents had understood why she wanted him buried here. Aunt Jalina had questioned the decision, of course, but this was their home and Emmy planned on growing old here and someday being laid to rest beside him. The convenience of visiting the reverent cemetery had been a healing balm.
The rain muted any outside noise, and she stayed so long her linen pants were soaked. Often she would talk to Grayson, but today she didn’t have much to say. She didn’t want to tell him about almost drowning and Josh saving her. Would he be disappointed she hadn’t joined him in Heaven last night? Grayson was the epitome of selflessness, but she still worried how he felt about her attraction to Josh. She sighed, wondering how that all worked. Maybe Grayson was so busy and happy up there, he wasn’t watching over her or listening to her every word.
A branch cracked behind her. Emmy turned in time to see a man in a hood disappear behind a tree. She watched for a minute, but he never materialized. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the damp air.
Growing stiff from the wetness and lack of movement, she stood and then bent and pressed a kiss to her fingertips and onto the stone. “Miss you.”
As she walked away, she could’ve sworn someone watched her through the driving rain. She shivered and hurried to the relative safety of her Range Rover.
8
EMMY KNOCKED ON THE THEATER owner’s door. “James?”
“Come in, my dear.”
She walked into the immaculate office, which boasted little more than a desk, a couple of hard chairs, and a gorgeous landscape portrait of the Italian countryside.
James gave her a smile, but his eyes were tired. They were in the last few days of performing My Fair Lady, and he still hadn’t made a decision about their next play. “Have a seat.”
Emmy sat on the edge of her chair, clasping her hands together. She had several great ideas involving the theater that she wanted to talk to him about. They had collaborated on scripts and casting in the past. He had to like her new ideas.
“I want to bring some underprivileged children from Portland to perform with the group,” she rushed out.
He tilted his head to the side. “Knowing you, it’s all lined up and you’ve already assigned them parts in the next performance.”
Emmy shrugged, hiding a grin. “I’ll cover all their costs, and they have a mentor who will be driving them and helping while they’re here.” She didn’t explain the whole plan about feeding them dinner every night and sending snacks home for the hour-long drive. The organization she’d found helped children who were homeless or severely neglected, but hadn’t yet been taken away by the state. She knew how it felt to be hungry and lonely. At least she’d had her mom some of the time.
“Sounds like a way for you to give back. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Thanks.” Emmy paused for half a beat, but the next part of her plan was crucial to the children feeling like a part of the theater and being excited about it as well. “I hate to ask if you’ve decided on a script—”
James held up a hand. “Would you be interested in taking over the theater?”
Emmy straightened, blinking a couple of times. “Excuse me?”
“I’m exhausted. You could buy me out, or we could be partners, or you could take over and send a check to Florida when you make some money. Which I’m sure with your work ethic, talent, and imagination will not be a problem.”
“Um.” Dumbfounded, she didn’t know what to say.
“I know, you didn’t see this coming, but think about it for a moment, please. You’d do an amazing job and it would help.”
He didn’t need to explain. She knew exactly what he meant. It would help him retire and be able to take care of his wife, who suffered from multiple sclerosis, but it would also help her to have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. She frowned. Was she ready to be this busy? To not be able to take it easy when the fearful, sleepless nights became too much? It sounded overwhelming, but she wanted this theater to be hers. She wanted it badly.
“I have no doubts you can be successful.” He smiled wistfully. “I’ll miss watching you perform when I move away.”
Emmy didn’t want to say goodbye to James, but running her own theater? James had asked for her input often, but she could now decide everything: casting, props, scripts, costumes. She barely withheld a squeal.
“Partners,” she declared. “I’ll buy into the theater. I need your expertise, and this way you’ll get a fat check now and dividends to live on.” He had no clue how big that “fat check” would be, but she was excited already at the opportunity to give back to this man she’d grown to love and respect.
The weariness in his eyes lifted a bit. “Partners it is. But …” His face wrinkled with a grin. “From Florida?”
“If you can help me through the summer season first.”
He nodded. “Done.”
She slid her chair closer to his desk, feeling as alive as she did when she swam and when Josh had held her in his arms the other night. “I’m thinking of Beauty and the Beast.”
James nodded. “It’s bold. Can we afford the costumes?”
Emmy shrugged. Grayson had never told her how successful his company was and how many different investments and life insurance policies he had. After his death, their financial consultant had shocked her by revealing she was worth over a billion dollars. He was one of Grayson’s closest friends, so she’d trusted him to sell Grayson’s company and manage her estate. He took care of everything and gave her a much too generous dividend each month. She didn’t like to dwell on Grayson’s money, but she could afford anything she wanted to afford. “I’ll get the costumes. Think of
little Madison playing Chip. And Timothy will be an unbelievable Beast. The women will fall in love with his voice, his height will be imposing, and when he takes off his mask they’ll swoon.”
James arched an eyebrow. “Women usually do that when Timothy’s around.” He tapped his finger against his chin. “Who for Gaston?”
Emmy sat back for a minute, then started laughing. “Kelton!”
James chuckled. “Overconfident and overly muscled. Perfect.”
They discussed the casting and altering of the script until Emmy’s stomach was eating its inner lining. As they said goodbye, Emmy knew she would miss her friend when he moved to Florida, but the opportunity to run this company was sunshine through a much too cloudy sky.
q
Emmy released a deep breath of satisfaction. Her students made up the bulk of performers for the city’s annual Fourth of July celebrations. They were all improving in skill and confidence. It was such a rewarding moment to share with their family and friends, making her almost feel like she had family.
Kelton finished with a blast of his deep bass, and she wished once again he’d take his talent more seriously. His voice was unreal. Perhaps a bigger role at the theater would spur him to work harder.
Kelton swept off the stage, hugged his mom, and then hurried to Emmy and lifted her off her feet. “How was that for ‘ahhhh’?”
“It was impressive, but if you don’t stop hugging me, I’m going to get death threats from the entire female population of Seaside High.” She winced at the words death threats.
Kelton didn’t seem to notice. “I’d rather wait for you anyway.” He grinned. A boy trapped in a man’s body, but honestly one of her closest friends. He set her down and glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, it’s Captain Campbell.”
Shadows in the Curtain (Destination Billionaire Romance) Page 4
