If Ever I Fall (Rhode Island Romance #1) (15 page)

Willa took the
question in its literal sense, her brain attuned to the undercurrent of
seriousness beneath Tony’s teasing facade. “I guess it would depend on how much
she loved the man who was asking.”

The
tide was low, and the wind was strong and cold on Saturday morning. The abrupt
change in temperature from warm to almost frigid belied the fact that summer
was just around the corner. Willa kept her hands buried in the pockets of her
windbreaker as she hurried along the beach. A few brave kitesurfers in wetsuits
skidded across the water along the south shore, but the beach itself was empty.

She’d had a late
start this morning; it was almost ten o’clock. Collette had come over for
coffee and to inform Willa that she wouldn’t be around for the rest of the
weekend; she was taking her mother to Foxwoods casino in Connecticut and
wouldn’t be back until late Sunday night.

“We’ve been doing
this every Mother’s Day for years,” Collette explained. “You’re going to be
around here today, right?”

“I wasn’t planning
on going anywhere.”

“Good. I’m
expecting a package that needs a signature. The UPS guy usually delivers before
noon. I’ll put a note on my door for him to bring it to you.”

Willa hadn’t been
paying attention to the calendar and had forgotten that the next day was
Mother’s Day. Her mood was somber as she walked along the beach, her eyes
scanning the horizon for any stranded horseshoe crabs. Her thoughts were full
of her mother.

Sometimes she
wondered how different her life might have been if her mother hadn’t died. She
remembered observing fierce arguments between her parents when she was just a
toddler. Her mother had been determined that Willa have as normal a childhood
as possible. She’d stood firm against her husband’s tirades and demands. Louisa
Cochrane had been a strong, proud woman. But she hadn’t been strong enough to
overcome the cancer that had taken her away from Willa far too soon.

There was no grave
to visit; her mother had been cremated, her ashes strewn into the sea off the
coast of Carmel. Louisa had always loved the ocean; some of Willa’s happiest
memories were of she and her mother frolicking in the waves and building
sandcastles.

Sometimes she felt
her mother’s presence during these morning walks, here, close to the ocean that
they both loved.

What would her
mother have told her to do about Joe? Would she have pushed Willa to follow her
heart, even if it meant breaking someone else’s? Or would she have advised
Willa to back off, to let Joe make his own choice and to be content with
whatever that choice might be?

There were no
answers to be found today. The wind blew carelessly; small waves splashed
heedlessly against the shore.

Willa found one
horseshoe crab caught between some rocks below the park, another pushed up
against a wood piling on the north shore. She thought that was it until she
spotted a dark object lying on the sandbar, about halfway towards the point.

She didn’t like
walking on the sandbar when it was this windy, so she picked up her pace,
accelerating to a jog as the wind whipped her hair around her face and tugged
at the thin material of her jacket.

The crab’s tail
moved up and down as she drew closer. Good. It was still alive. Without
stopping to catch her breath, she bent over, picked it up and took the few short
steps to the water’s edge. But as she leaned over to set the crab down, a
fierce gust of wind from the north shoved against her back, as powerful as if
someone had struck her with a heavy blow.

Willa took a
jarring step forward, her right foot sinking down at an awkward angle in the bank
of the sandbar. She thought her footing was secure, but the incline was steeper
than she realized, and she was thrown off balance. She dropped the crab into
the water and leaned backwards, thinking she’d be able to plop down in the
sand. But another gust of wind thrust her forward.

She gave a panicked
shout, her arms flailing. Fear, sharp and clawing, assaulted her as she found
herself tumbling headfirst into the water. She opened her eyes, stretched out
her arms, hands scrabbling for the sandbar, but there was only water in front
of her, murky and dark. A few feet below the surface, the temperature still
felt winter cold, chilling her instantly to the bone.

She twisted her
torso around, using her legs to propel her up to the surface. She sucked in air
as soon as her head broke the surface. Her eyes darted frantically about her.
She was a good four feet away from the sandbar. She kicked into a breaststroke
towards it, stretching out her hands until her fingers just grazed the solid
sand, but a sudden, strong current pulled her back and under.

Oh, my God
, she thought wildly. She was going to drown. There
was no one on the beach. No one had seen her fall in. Her thoughts raced as
fast as her heart.
Think
, Willa.
Use your head
. Maybe she could
try swimming towards the rocks on the south shore. Was the current pulling in
that direction?

She reached for
every ounce of strength she had, kicking her legs, moving her arms, propelling
herself upwards and forward. This time when her head broke the surface, she
thought she saw someone running across the beach towards the sandbar.

She brought one arm
up, waving frantically. “Help!” she screamed.

The current pulled
at her, drawing her down. “No,” she wailed, fighting against it.

“
Willa
!”

Joe?

It
was
Joe,
running down the sandbar towards her. He was shouting something, but she
couldn’t make out his words above the wind and the waves. She kicked faster,
trying to swim towards him.

The water seemed to
be sucking at her, dragging her under. Her waterlogged clothes and shoes were
weighing her down. Her limbs, now numb with cold, were weakening. She kept her
eyes latched on Joe, desperately trying to comprehend what he was telling her.
When he was parallel to her position in the water, he hurtled down the incline
until the water was up to his thighs. He leaned forward, stretching out his
arms.

“Willa,” he said,
his voice strong and even, revealing none of the panic that was clear in his
eyes, eyes that were dark and wide against his ashen face. “Willa, hold out
your hands towards me. Come on, honey, you can do it.”

She stretched her
arms forward, kicked and kicked. She felt a rush of relief as her body seemed
to move closer to his outstretched arms. She held her right hand above the
water, reaching towards him. Her fingers scarcely brushed against his before
she felt herself being sucked back and under again.

“No!” he shouted.
And a firm, strong hand grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her forward. The top
of her head rammed against his stomach with the momentum. His hands grasped her
under her armpits, heaving her up and forward at the same time until she found
herself sprawled limply across his body where he lay against the side of the
sandbar.

“I’ve got you,
Willa,” he said. Then, with both hands gripping her around the waist, he heaved
her up onto the top of the sandbar. Letting her go, he crawled up after her.

Willa was coughing
and shaking at the same time. She tried to raise herself to her knees, but her
limbs wouldn’t support her. She collapsed onto her stomach on the sand, her fingers
digging into the grains. She felt an overwhelming rush of relief as it struck
her that she was back on land. She was safe.

She had almost
drowned.

If Joe hadn’t been
there…

His arms came
around her, lifting her up. He was sitting upright, legs splayed in front of
him. He brought her onto his lap, hugging her tightly against his chest, one
hand at her head, the other wrapped around her waist. He bent forward, pressing
his cheek against her temple.

“
God
.
Willa,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You could’ve drowned. I almost lost you.”

“T-thank you for
rescuing m-me,” she whispered back, still in a state of shock.

His chest heaved up
and down with the rapid force of his breathing. His embrace tightened. “If I
hadn’t been here…”

“W-what
were
you d-doing here?” By now, her teeth were chattering so badly she could barely
get the words out.

“What the hell am I
doing?” he muttered darkly to himself. “You’re freezing. We need to get you
warm. Fast.”

With effortless strength,
he rose to his feet, bringing her with him. He kept one arm wrapped firmly
around her waist as he half carried, half walked her towards the park. Her
waterlogged shoes dragged in the sand, and her body felt heavy and lethargic.

Once they reached
the solid ground of the grassy park, Joe hoisted her into his arms and jogged
towards his truck. He yanked open the passenger door, set her on the seat and
slammed the door. Then he raced around to the driver’s side. He cranked up the
heater as soon as he turned the key in the ignition.

The drive to her
place took less than five minutes. Joe brought the truck to a skidding halt
next to the garage. Willa’s body was shaking so hard by this time that she was
scarcely aware of him pulling her back into his arms and carrying her up the
stairs to her apartment.

She’d left the
front door unlocked, and he flung it open, kicking it shut behind him. “Where’s
the bathroom?” he muttered, already striding across the living room and down
the hallway that led towards the bathroom and her bedroom.

Once inside the
bathroom, he set her down on the closed toilet lid. He swept aside the shower
curtain and turned on the water, twisting the knobs and testing the temperature.
Then he turned towards her, his expression grim with authority.

“Take off your
clothes.”

Willa
blinked slowly up at him. “W-what?”

“You need to take
off your clothes and get in the shower. Now.”

The logical side of
her brain that was still working understood that what he was telling her made
perfect sense. No doubt she was suffering from mild to moderate hypothermia.
Her slender build and the lightweight cotton clothing she was wearing had
offered no protection against the colder water temperatures that had lurked a
few feet below the surface of the bay, not to mention the frigid air
temperature which had only compounded the chills that now racked her body.

But logic couldn’t
make her hands move, and a fuzzy part of her brain was telling her that she
should feel embarrassed to undress in front of him.

So she just stared
up at him, arms clutched tightly around her waist, cold trails of seawater
trickling down her face, puddles of water pooling at her feet. She felt too
tired and too befuddled to move.

Joe muttered
something indecipherable under his breath. His gestures were urgent, but his
face was impassive as he dropped to his knees on the tile in front of her and tugged
off her sneakers and then her socks.

His fingers felt
hot against her chilled skin as he brought his hands to the waistband of her
yoga pants and pulled them down.

“Lift up,” he
ordered.

She leaned back
against the porcelain toilet tank, finding enough strength to lift her hips
high enough for him to pull both her yoga pants and underwear down. Two tugs
and they made a soggy plopping sound as he dropped them to the floor. As if
from a great distance, she observed the raised goose bumps on her exposed, pale
legs.

He took her hands,
carefully moving her stiff arms aside so he could unzip her windbreaker. Then
he stood up.

“Can you lift your
arms?”

She was shivering
so badly by this point that she couldn’t speak or even shake her head. She let
out a soft whimper of pain as he raised her right arm and then her left.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he
soothed as he pulled off her windbreaker. “This will just take a few seconds
and then you’ll be in the warm shower.”

He removed her
tee-shirt and bra in swift, efficient order and then he was lifting her into
his arms again, carrying her into the walk-in shower and holding her under the
spray.

The water was
probably only lukewarm, but it felt like hot, sharp pinpricks against her numb skin.
She winced, clutching at his shirtfront, pressing her face against his chest.

“I know it hurts,
Willa,” he said, his voice calm and comforting above her head. “But we need to
do this to get your body temperature back up to where it should be. I’m going
to make the water hotter now, okay?”

He didn’t wait for
her response as he leaned over to twist the hot water knob up another degree.

She bit her lip
against the agony, fighting to keep quiet and not complain. He was only trying
to get her warm. It wasn’t his fault that she was so cold. She kept her
forehead pressed against his chest as hot tears seeped from beneath her lashes
and trailed down her cheeks.

She couldn’t stop
shivering.

Joe’s chest rumbled
as he said something incoherent. He turned the knob up another notch and then
stepped directly under the showerhead, soaking them both in the hot spray.

As the shower
filled with steam, Willa gradually felt a loosening in her limbs. She slowly
relaxed her fingers, flexed her hand a little before laying it flat against
Joe’s chest. His body heat flowed into her palm, up her arm and straight into
her heart. She became aware of the steady thud of his heart beneath her hand,
and then she became aware that his shirt was soaking wet, that he still had all
his clothes on, even his shoes, while she was stark naked.

She stiffened in
his arms.

“How do you feel?”
he asked. “Think you can stand up now?”

“I think so,” she
said.

He released his
grip on her legs first, easing her to a standing position, making sure her feet
were firmly on the floor before he loosened his hold around her shoulders. He
stepped back a couple of inches.

She couldn’t look
him in the eye. She yanked her hand away from his chest and folded her arms
across her breasts.

“Hey,” he murmured.
“You have no reason to be embarrassed.” He touched a finger to her chin, lifting
her face up, compelling her to look at him. He kept his eyes on hers, not
looking at her body. His expression was gentle, reassuring.

“You need to soap
off all the sea water,” he said. “And wash your hair. Did you swallow any
water?”

She shook her head.

“Good. But I’m
going to have you drink some hot tea and take an aspirin as soon as you get out
of the shower.” He brought his palm to her cheek in a tender caress. “I’m going
to get out now, okay? Give a shout once you’ve toweled off and put on your
robe.”

He turned his back
on her and stepped out of the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Willa released a
shuddering breath.

Her mind was less
fuzzy, but it felt cluttered with too many thoughts. What if Joe hadn’t been on
the beach? What had he been doing there anyway? What if she’d drowned? What if
she’d never been able to tell him the words that were still left unspoken in
her heart, words that she now knew must be said? What if?
What if
?

The water was
getting cooler. She moved slowly, still feeling sluggish, and turned the handle
until the temperature was almost scalding hot. She squeezed some shower gel
onto a washcloth and worked it into a lather, inhaling the mild lavender scent.
She scrubbed the washcloth over her body in widening circles, bringing a pink,
healthy glow back to her skin.

Then she washed her
hair, shampooing it twice before slathering it with a thick conditioner. She
found enough energy to shave her legs before she rinsed out her hair.

Finally, she shut
off the water and stepped out of the shower. Her wet clothes weren’t in the
room; Joe must’ve taken them with him. He’d also mopped up the puddles on the
floor.

She toweled off,
applied powder and lotion and then slipped into her terrycloth robe. She
wrapped her damp hair in a towel. She stared at the closed door and took a
shaky breath, feeling nervous and a little shy.

“Joe?”

He opened the door,
his eyes sweeping her up and down and up again, his face impassive. “Sit down,”
he said, nodding towards the toilet. “I found some socks for you. And we need
to dry your hair.”

“I can do it.”

“You look like
you’re about to fall off your feet.” He moved into the room, setting a cup of
tea on the counter before clasping her forearms and guiding her backwards until
she sat down. “Are you still cold?”

“A little.”

“Here. Drink this.
All of it.”

He handed her an
aspirin, waiting until she put it on her tongue before bringing the cup to her
lips. The tea wasn’t too hot; she was able to swallow it down in several gulps,
giving a little moan of relief as the liquid warmth bathed her insides.

Joe watched her
with an imperturbable expression. When she was finished, he set the empty cup on
the counter, then he knelt down to slip on her socks.

She finally
realized that he was shirtless, and his feet were bare. His jeans were soaking
wet, clinging damply to his taut, muscular thighs.

“You’re all wet,”
she said, her forehead wrinkling with concern.

“Don’t worry about
me,” he said. “Once you’re tucked into bed, I’ll toss them in the wash. Where
do you keep your blow dryer?”

She pointed to the
cupboard beneath the sink.

He retrieved the
blow dryer and plugged it in. Then he removed the towel from her head. “Do you
put any gels or creams in your hair before you dry it?”

“In the drawer
there. The purple bottle.”

“Is this all?
Sylvie has at least six different things she puts in her hair.”

“That’s all. I
usually let it dry naturally.”

“Not today.”

He squeezed some
hair cream onto his palm and rubbed his hands together before running them
through her hair. He threaded his fingers through from top to bottom, smoothing
the hair ends between thumb and forefinger.

She looked up at
him, watching his eyes as they followed his hands. “You’ve done this before,”
she murmured.

His eyes met hers.
Something softened in his expression. “Many, many times,” he said with a smile.
“From the time Sylvie was seven until she was about thirteen. Tony joked that
if the construction business went under I could always open up a hair salon.”

Willa giggled.

Joe’s fingers
stilled in her hair. He bent forward and kissed her forehead. “That sounded so
sweet,” he whispered.

She shivered, but
not with cold.

He must have
thought otherwise, because he quickly pulled back and reached for the blow
dryer. “Hold still,” he muttered, flicking on the switch.

She kept her gaze
fastened on his face, observing his look of studious concentration as he dried
off one section of her hair at a time, using his fingers to lift and part the
strands. When it was time to dry the hair at the back of her head, he cupped
his hand at her nape, gently pushing her head down. She swayed towards him,
letting her forehead drop against his bare, flat stomach, soaking in the heat
that seemed to radiate from him in waves.

A languid feeling
poured into her bloodstream, zapping what little energy she had left, compelling
her eyes to close. She drifted as if on a cloud, vaguely aware of his warm,
calloused hands sliding across her scalp, the sound of the blow dryer, the
smell of lavender and talc.

And then he was
shutting the blow dryer off and lifting her into his arms, cradling her close
to his chest. She forced her heavy eyelids to open as he carried her into her
bedroom and placed her on her bed.

She lay down,
resting her cheek on her pillow. The cotton pillowcase felt cold against her
face, and she shivered.

“Are you still
feeling cold?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Yes,” she
whispered, unable to tamp down the shakiness in her voice. “It’s like it’s deep
in my bones.” As she looked up at him, she wondered if her eyes conveyed the
pleading emotion that was suddenly squeezing around her heart.

Something flickered
in Joe’s expression; a heat that had been kept banked now simmered to the
surface. Without a second of hesitation he reached for the belt at his waist
and unclasped it. Then he undid the buttons of his jeans. Eyes glued on her
face, he pushed his sodden jeans and briefs down his lean hips.

Willa rubbed her
lips together and lowered her gaze, latching on to the sleek, male angles and
planes that were revealed to her as he slowly removed his jeans.

Moisture darkened
and curled the trail of dark hair that led to his groin. More hair was revealed
as he pulled his jeans lower, his movements impeded by the heavy, wet material
that clung to his body like a second skin. As he bent forward to peel the jeans
down his legs, his penis, semi-swollen, hung low and heavy, brushing against
his inner thigh.

Finally, he kicked
the jeans aside and stood up straight, hands on his hips, revealing not a trace
of embarrassment or awkwardness in his stance. “Willa,” he said, his voice
taut.

She tore her gaze
away from his penis and met his burning eyes.

“I’m going to hold
you, that’s all. Share my body heat to get your temperature up to where it
should be. You’re still too cold. Do you have a thermometer?”

She shook her head.

“We need to be skin
to skin,” he said. He stepped closer to the bed and leaned over. His fingers
tugged at the belt of her robe, unloosening it. Then he drew the folds of her
robe away from her, baring her body.

“Can you sit up?”

She did, her body
shaking uncontrollably now as he removed her robe. He used it to quickly towel
himself dry before setting it aside.

“Scoot over.”

As she moved closer
to the center of the bed, he climbed in beside her, drawing the top sheet and
comforter over them both.

“Roll over to your
other side so I can cuddle you.”

Willa gave him one
final wide-eyed look before rolling to her side, her back to him. He wrapped one
arm around her waist and dragged her close, holding her snuggly against his
body. His knees moved up, pressing against the back of her legs, gently coaxing
her to bend her legs in the same position. His thighs and groin cupped her
bottom. His body was like a furnace. She felt the heat and length of his penis,
harder now, nudging at the crevice of her bottom.

Joe tucked his
other arm under her head and brought his face close to hers, his cheek resting
against her temple. “Feeling warmer?” His chest rumbled against her back.