by Gina Wilkins
She found it rather ironic that it was because of Adam, in a way, that she and Maddie had bonded so tightly during the past years. Maddie had stood by her during her pregnancy, helping her with doctor appointments and nursery preparation, serving as her birthing coach, spending a lot of time with her during those first few weeks of adjustment and sleep deprivation. Their mother was useless at that sort of thing, having mostly turned her own daughters over to the care of nannies during those early months of feedings and changes and colic.
“You never mentioned if you have siblings,” she said, looking up at him. Did Adam have anyone who would be excited to know about the newly discovered nephew, or parents who would be anxious to meet their five-year-old grandson?
“No. I was an only child.”
“Are your parents still living?” If so, how would he tell them about Simon?
But he shook his head again without looking at her. “They’re both gone.”
So her sense of him being alone in the world was proving correct. She wondered how long ago his parents had died, but something about his posture let her know he didn’t want to get into it at the moment. She didn’t press, though if Adam became a part of Simon’s life, he would have to tell her more about himself.
Moving a clump of dried sea grass aside with one foot, Adam kept his gaze on the damp sand ahead as he asked, “When are you making this big move to Washington?”
“In a few weeks. I’d like to get settled there before the school year begins so Simon won’t have to start after his classmates. This vacation is sort of a last break for us before we have to dive into packing and preparing to resettle.”
Adam reached up to squeeze the back of his neck. She considered recommending the spa, but thought maybe he wouldn’t appreciate the lame attempt at humor.
“How does Simon feel about all this?”
“He’s excited to move to the Puget Sound area, considering his recent obsession with oceanography. He’s always eager for new experiences and new things to learn.”
“It’s a big change for him.”
“Yes.” She brushed a blowing strand of hair out of her mouth and tucked it behind her ear. “I think I’ve prepared him as best I can. Of course, now I’ll need to prepare him for another change. Once we decide how and when to tell him who you are to him.”
Adam didn’t respond.
She stopped moving, catching his right arm to bring him to a halt. They’d walked beyond the lifeguard-monitored swimming beach onto a more natural stretch of scrubby dunes and sand. No one else was on the beach, though out in the water two teenagers, a boy and a girl, floated on boogie boards they didn’t appear to handle very well. Probably vacationers from inland, she thought fleetingly before turning her full attention to Adam. “You do want to tell Simon who you are, don’t you?”
The corners of his mouth tightened. “I need some time, Joanna.”
Puzzled, she studied him. He still gripped the back of his neck with his left hand, and she couldn’t tell if his discomfort was physical or emotional—perhaps a combination.
“I don’t understand. Are you saying you want time to decide how to tell him—or time to decide if you want to tell him at all?”
“I don’t know. The latter, I guess.”
His reply took her aback. Through all that worrying she’d done about how Adam’s presence in their life would affect her and Simon, it had never occurred to her that he might choose not to be a part of that. Even to acknowledge his connection to them.
His voice was emotionless when he said, “Whether or not we choose to clue him in, I realize I have certain financial obligations to the boy. I’ll pay my fair share. We’ll work something out.”
She really didn’t want to talk finances, and it annoyed her that he seemed to think that was her priority. As far as she was concerned, there were so many more important issues to discuss. “Is there any particular reason you wouldn’t want to tell Simon you’re his father?”
Was it for Simon’s sake or his own?
“There are plenty of reasons. But honestly, Joanna—do you really want to tell him? Looks to me as if the two of you have been getting along very well. Or is it just the two of you? Is there someone else in your life? In his?”
“No, it’s just the two of us. And we have gotten along very well. To be honest, it’s hard for me to consider sharing him with you. With anyone. But that’s selfish, and I don’t want Simon to resent me for keeping him from his father.”
He looked down at her hand on his arm, making her suddenly aware of how close she stood to him. His skin was warm and taut beneath her palm. He met her eyes, holding her in place with nothing more than his intense gaze. Her face was so close to his that she could almost feel his breath on her cheeks—or was that just the teasing ocean breeze?
They’d shared their first kiss on this beach, though their faces had been lit then by moonlight rather than the bright afternoon sun. It had been the night they met, after dinner and drinks and dancing, during a long, slow stroll that had led eventually to her suite.
The memories faded and the silence stretched between them. Heat built inside her, though she couldn’t quite determine whether it was irritation or unwelcome attraction raising her temperature more. She was vividly aware that both emotions swirled inside her.
His gaze lowered slowly to her salty, parted lips. Her breath came more quickly when she took another quick step backward. “Adam—”
A scream shattered the moment. They whirled simultaneously toward the water. The teen girl Joanna had noted earlier was clinging to her board, shrieking. Having fallen from his own board, which had floated out of his reach, the boy floundered in the water, waves crashing over his head and making him bob in and out of sight. Even from this distance, Joanna could tell he was panicking. The girl seemed too frightened to try to calm him down or assist him.
Muttering a curse, Adam kicked off his shoes. His shirt fell on the sand moments before he hit the water.
Running to the edge of the water, feeling the waves break on her sandaled feet, Joanna held her breath as he arrowed through the water toward the teens. He swam strongly, steadily, though he didn’t appear to reach out quite as far with his right arm as his left. She could hear him calling instructions between strokes. “Calm down. The current won’t pull you under if you just stay calm.”
“I can’t—” The boy gurgled when another wave splashed over his face, making him thrash again.
The girl screamed, making the situation worse rather than helping. “He’s drowning! Save him! My brother is drowning!”
Joanna debated whether to jump in to help, but the knowledge that she was more likely to get in the way held her back. She could swim, but she had no rescue experience. Should she call for assistance, run for a lifeguard?
But Adam had reached the teens, and she could still hear him talking to them, raising his voice to be heard. She bit her lip as she watched him flinch to avoid a flailing arm, and then he got hold of the boy. She couldn’t make out his words, but she heard his deep, reassuring voice as he swam sideways out of the rip current, towing the kid with him.
Joanna clutched her hands to her chest, feeling her heart pounding. She held her breath until she could see that Adam had both himself and the boy under control. The girl was quieter now, though an occasional sob carried on the breeze to where Joanna stood ready to assist as needed. She waded into the water to just above her ankles to help the still-sniffling girl when the drenched trio reached the beach. The girl was shaking like a leaf and nearly dragged Joanna down into the water with her when she stumbled, though Joanna was able to steady them both.
Five minutes later, the subdued, shaken teens ran down the beach with their recovered boards tucked under their arms, having received a kind but firm lecture from Adam on safe ocean swimming. As Joanna had suspected, they hadn�
��t grown up on the coast; they were vacationing with their family from Tennessee. The girl, who didn’t give her name, looked as though she wanted nothing more than to find her mother as they hurried away.
Dripping onto the sand, Adam sighed heavily as he pushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe they’ll use a little more common sense next time they go into the water. But I wouldn’t bet my life savings on it.”
“I don’t know,” Joanna murmured, gazing after the disappearing siblings. “They looked pretty scared. Maybe they learned their lesson.”
Adam shook his wet head in exasperation, drops raining down around him. “The kid wasn’t even in that much danger from the current, though he could well have drowned from all that wild splashing he was doing. Close to fifty people a year die in rip currents in the US, mostly due to panic. What they need to do is stay calm and swim sideways, like I did, until they’re out of the current and can make it to shore. We put literature in all the rooms, warnings are spelled out on signs, but they don’t even bother to...”
His voice trailed off, but Joanna barely heard him as she turned back to him and caught sight of his glistening chest. His broad, tanned, badly scarred chest. Those scars hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him shirtless.
Her throat tightened painfully at the evidence of just how badly he’d been injured. No wonder he’d needed months of hospitalization and rehabilitation. She didn’t even want to think about how close he must have been to not coming home at all.
Looking suddenly self-conscious, he scooped up his shirt and dragged it over his head, jerking it down over his soaked khakis. She didn’t know what to say, but watched in silence as he walked back to his shoes. Noting a slight hitch in his step, she frowned and looked down at the beach behind him. She hadn’t noticed him limping before.
Splotches of blood on the white sand marked each step he’d taken. She gasped. “Adam, you’re bleeding.”
He stopped and lifted his right foot, twisting it to see the sole. Grumbling in annoyance, he reached down to brush it with his hand, hopping a little for balance. “Looks like I got a piece of shell in it. It’s fine.”
She reached out to catch his arm until he regained his balance. “You probably have sand in the cut now. Maybe more pieces of shell. I have a first aid kit in my suite,” she added on impulse, instinctively shifting into caregiver mode. “I’ll clean and bandage it for you if you want. Unless you think a doctor should look at it.”
“I don’t need to see a doctor for a small cut on my foot,” he said impatiently. “I need a shower, dry clothes and a bandage. My quarters are here on the grounds. I can take care of it there.”
She hesitated a few moments, telling herself she should let it go. Let him deal with it, as he obviously wanted to do. Still—
“You can’t even see that cut without doing contortions. Shell cuts can get badly infected. As I’m sure you know,” she added sheepishly, remembering where he’d worked and lived for at least the past three years. “I’ll come with you and help you tend to it once you’ve dried off. It won’t take long. We only have an hour before Simon gets back from the museum.”
After a beat, Adam nodded and shoved his sandy feet into his canvas boat shoes. If the shoe hurt his wound, he managed not to wince or limp as he moved toward the path. “This way.”
She had some belated second thoughts about inviting herself to his place, but she supposed that was foolish. She trusted him. Maybe it was herself she didn’t trust to keep her emotional distance from the man who’d once smiled at her on a beach and changed her life forever.
* * *
THE TWO-STORY STAFF apartment building was tucked into a secluded corner of the resort, next to the employee parking lot. Signs on the path from the main resort advised that this area was restricted to resort staff, and most of the guests respected those. Adam’s place was upstairs at the north end. He couldn’t help wincing when he climbed the stairs, trying to keep his weight on the toes of his right foot. He was pretty sure a piece of shell was lodged in his arch, though it could just be residual grit causing discomfort.
He unlocked his door, then motioned for Joanna to go in ahead of him. He saw her glance quickly around when they entered. His furniture was comfortable and functional, unadorned by knickknacks or decorative pillows, though a worn blue knitted throw was draped carelessly over one arm of the couch. A couple of paperbacks were scattered on tables, but otherwise, everything was in place. A utilitarian kitchen took up one side of the main room, separated from the sitting area by a quartz-topped eating bar. Glass cabinet doors revealed his dishes—service for four in plain white ceramic, though he almost never had guests for meals. His pots and pans hung from a rack above the stove.
“Nice place,” Joanna commented, turning to look at him as he closed the door. “Very military.”
He shrugged, not having to ask what she meant. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard similar comments. “I like things neat.”
“And maybe easy to pack up when you decide to move on?”
He turned away to avoid answering the too-perceptive question. “I’m going to shower off the salt before we do this. I’ll keep it quick. Make yourself comfortable. There’s soda, bottled water and lemonade in the fridge if you’re thirsty.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond.
True to his word, he was in the shower less than five minutes. He dressed in a clean resort polo and khakis, combing his wet hair back from his face with his hand. Because the shower had reopened the cut on his foot, he wrapped a hand towel around it and carried the first aid kit into the living room. He could have taken care of this himself, of course, but Joanna had seemed intent on helping, and he supposed it was good to have some privacy. Only to talk, of course.
When he went back to the living room, Joanna was reading the back cover of a paperback sci-fi novel he’d left on the coffee table. “Sounds exciting,” she said, putting the book back.
“Not so much. I bailed about halfway through.”
She looked from him to the discarded book and back again. “You aren’t going to finish it?”
“No.” He settled onto the couch beside her. “I’ve got others waiting to be read. No need to waste time on one I don’t enjoy.”
Smiling ruefully, she shook her head. “I can’t do that. Once I start a book, I have to finish it, even if I don’t really like it.”
“Well, there’s the difference between you and me.” One of them, anyway. And a very telling one. “So, do you still want to look at this cut, or do you want me to take care of it? I can, you know.”
“I’m sure you can, tough guy, but since I’m available...” She twisted to face him from the end of the couch and patted her lap. “Put it up here.”
He lifted an eyebrow. Raising hers in response, she patted again. “Your foot. Let’s see it.”
Swiveling, he straightened his leg and rested the heel lightly on her thigh. “That sounded a lot like a ‘mama voice.’”
She reached for the kit. “I’ve had a little practice. But for the record, I’m not feeling maternal toward you.”
He nodded. For that same record, he had no interest on being mothered by her.
It felt so damned weird to picture her spending the past six years caring for their child. Naming the boy, nursing him, teaching him to walk and hold a spoon and tie his shoes. It made sense, of course, that she’d bonded so tightly with Simon, whereas Adam was still coming to terms with his own biological connection to the kid. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to feel.
He was clueless when it came to parenting, couldn’t imagine what he had to offer the boy. Maybe one had to be there from the start to gain that sort of knowledge, though his own folks had never gotten the hang of it. If being a competent father was genetic, he’d probably missed out entirely.
Joanna prodded his foot
, focusing intently on the task. “I don’t see any pieces of shell, but you missed a little sand in the shower.”
“Maybe you should’ve volunteered to help me wash it. Ouch!”
She set aside the alcohol pad she’d just swiped not so gently over his wound. Apparently she hadn’t cared for being reminded of the showers they’d taken together. Probably hadn’t been the brightest thing to say, but it had just popped out.
Almost everything had changed in the past two days, but one thing was still the same—he couldn’t be this close to Joanna without reacting to her. Still. Just having her hands on his bare foot, even as deliberately impersonal as she was being, made his blood warm. Not that they could do anything about it. Not this time.
His life had become complicated enough from simply learning about Simon. Acknowledging his lingering attraction to Joanna could only complicate it more. It would be smarter to put those thoughts out of his mind and concentrate on the boy, whose well-being was paramount.
After cleaning the wound and dabbing antiseptic ointment on it, Joanna smoothed an adhesive bandage into place, then pushed his foot off her lap. “That should do it.”
Putting as much distance between them as the couch allowed, he nodded. “Yeah. That should do it.”
She closed the first aid kit and carried the trash to the garbage can in the kitchen. Washing her hands in the sink, she asked over her shoulder, “So, is lifeguard one of your titles around here?”
“No.” Because he needed something to do with his hands, he crossed the room to pull a bottle of water from the fridge. He felt the thin bandage on his sole, but the cut didn’t hurt. Much. “You could call that an unofficial sideline.”
“The boy’s sister wasn’t much help, screaming and splashing the way she was.”
Swallowing a gulp of cold water, he nodded. “They were just a couple of young inlanders who shouldn’t have been out there alone.”
