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.”