by Debra Kayn
The strength went out of her, and she rocked back on the heels of her feet.
He let go of her and walked into the house. Before she could follow, he went to his bedroom.
Curious to know if she stayed outside, he looked out his window, thankful he'd cut the bush that used to block his view to the pool. Katie paced the concrete of the patio.
Even from inside, he could see her flushed face and the way she kept thrusting her fingers in her hair. He wasn't the only one frustrated.
Stripping off his shirt, he lowered himself to the floor. Fifty push-ups later, he'd regained his ability to keep his distance from her.
Chapter 21
Katie was on a downward spiral since the night six months ago when he'd put a stop to her acting on her feelings toward him. Race slipped his arms into a Henley shirt and pulled up the sleeves, yawning again. He'd stayed up until three o'clock in the morning, waiting for her to come home.
Sitting on the bed, he put on his shoes. He had no idea where she'd gone or who she was with for all those hours. It had taken everything out of him to stay in the bedroom and not demand to know what the hell was going on with her.
His lack of sleep played havoc on his mind.
She refused to answer any questions regarding her feelings. Yet, they could sit and talk about her adventures in real estate school—which she passed her licensing exam and was now helping her clients sell and buy within Clatsop County, the news going around Sherwood Community on which neighbors updated their porch or parked a motorhome in their driveway, and what she wanted to have for dinner as if they were the best of friends and nothing had happened between them.
He'd kept a professional distance, and yet, she was miserable.
He walked into the bathroom, slapped cologne on his jaw, and ran his hands through his hair. Barely looking sane, he'd need to make an appointment to have his hair cut before his patients started questioning his ability to help them while his life was falling apart.
Putting his phone in his pocket, he walked out of the room and almost ran into Katie. Her soft squeak of surprise put more tension throughout him.
She wore a bikini. Her skin oiled and gleaming as if to make sure he noticed.
He had.
Sniffing, she grabbed onto his forearms and propelled herself to her toes and put her face against the front of his neck. "God, you smell good."
His cock hardened. The echo of drums played in his ears before he realized his blood pulsed with the need to have her in his arms.
She inhaled deeply before dropping back on her heels. "Where are you going?"
"Nowhere." His gaze dropped to her breasts. "Are you going swimming?"
"Just laying by the pool for an hour before I have to meet a client and show them a building down by the wharf."
"Which one?"
She walked ahead of him to the kitchen. "Mm, it used to be Joe's Crab Shack. It's in that little plaza where the road splits in two."
Her ass, only covered by a thin strip of material, swayed with each step. He rubbed his chest. It was hard to breathe, looking at his view.
Everything about her life appeared to be on an upswing if he didn't know her. He did know her. He knew her better than he knew himself.
In the short time she'd hung up her real estate license, she'd sold three houses. He couldn't be prouder of her. She kept the line between her career and personal life separate. Something he was failing to do lately.
She grabbed a towel off the counter and walked toward the sliding glass doors. He poured coffee into a mug, picked up his sunglasses, and followed her.
Taking the lounger next to her, he sat sideways, preferring to face her.
Katie leaned back, closed her eyes, and propped one leg up. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, making her breasts strain against the material of her bikini top.
He put his sunglasses on and cradled his mug with both hands. "Are you staying home tonight?"
"Hm..." She caressed her flat stomach. "I don't know yet."
It was odd that she stopped going out with the two women who worked at the realtor's office and instead preferred to hang out with that Pete guy and his buddies who hung out behind the bar on the deck over the water downtown. It was how she handled being underaged and still able to hang around legal adults who drank.
He'd thought stopping her parties at the house would discourage the boys from hanging around her, but all he'd done was force her to find another place to hang out.
"Are you going out?" She kept her eyes closed.
"Maybe." He had no plans, but he needed to keep himself busy. There were a few people he knew, including Sharon, who'd turned into more of a convenience when he wanted sex than anything else, who was going over to Long Beach later. Getting away and relaxing could help him get some much-needed sleep tonight.
She looked at him. "Don't."
"Don't what? Go out?"
She closed her eyes again and reached out, laying her hand on his thigh. He looked down, hyperaware of her touch.
Trying to figure out where she was going with the conversation, the touch, he wasn't prepared for when she sat up and put her feet down on the ground in front of him.
She leaned forward and rubbed both hands on his thighs. "Do you ever think about me?"
"You live here. I've been taking care of you for a long time." His chest wouldn't allow him to take a deep breath as he struggled to stay one step ahead of her and ward off her sudden urge to breach the distance between them.
She moved closer, arching her neck. Her face within inches of his, he stilled.
"When you go out with those other women, do you think about me?" she whispered, catching her lower lip between her teeth.
"Katie." His heart hammered inside of him. "You don't know what you're doing."
Her hands, making slow sweeps of his thighs, told him she knew exactly how she aroused him. Even with that knowledge, he was powerless to stop her.
"I don't like it when you go out with those women." She pursed her lips. "They don't know you. You can't trust women."
"Trust?"
She moistened her lips and tilted her head without moving away from him. If she weren't still touching him and close enough to kiss, he would've stopped the conversation then, and tried when she was more in control of her emotions. He wanted to know why her opinion of her mother had spread to all women. It was a new development in her ongoing progress.
Her gaze dropped to his lap, and her mouth curved. He couldn't hide his erection from her.
"Trust should be mutual." He inhaled a ragged breath, all the blood leaving his head the longer she studied him. "You must trust your boy...friends for how much you hang out with them lately."
She looked him in the eyes. "Oh, men only want one thing."
"Not all." He swallowed hard. If she knew what he was thinking and wanting to do with her, she wouldn't, shouldn't trust him.
"It doesn't matter. Go out with women." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I trust you. That's enough for me."
She removed her hands from his body, stood, grabbed the towel off the chair, and headed toward the house. "It's too hot to lay out in the sun."
"Katie?" He stood and waited for her to turn around. "If you're having sex with those boys, you should trust them first."
She frowned. "Who says I'm having sex?"
"I...just assumed."
She smiled softly. "I'm waiting."
He told himself not to ask. He told himself to let the subject go. He told himself it wasn't any of his business.
"What are you waiting for?" He couldn't even swallow as he held on for her answer.
She looked away from him, and when he thought she wouldn't answer; she met his gaze. "You."
Katie walked into the house, leaving him vibrating with the desire to follow her and make sure he heard her right.
She went out at least three times a week with several boys—men. He'd witnessed the affection she showered on all of them,
sometimes on the same night.
Yet, she was waiting to lose her virginity with him?
The sun beat down on him. Sweat broke out on his forehead. What kind of hell was she planning on putting him through?
Chapter 22
The meeting at the community hospital in Long Beach, Washington, took longer than Race planned. Driving over the Megler Bridge to cut his travel time, he said, "Call Katie."
His call connected on the cell phone as the waves splashed against the railing of the bridge on the north side. Ringing sounded over the speaker until the voice message for Katie's phone came on. When the beep sounded, he said, "Call me as soon as you get this message."
Verbally disconnecting the call, he paused and said, "Check voice mail."
He hadn't had time to check his phone when he'd hurried out of the hospital. Once the meeting had adjourned, he'd walked out to a storm brewing and a desperate need to get home to Katie.
"There are two messages..."
He turned the speed up on the windshield wipers as his only afternoon appointment canceled. The second message started in silence. Then, he heard her voice calling his name.
"...my car broke down." The wind cut out her voice. "I'm on the wharf un-under the Megler Bridge at the building... please come and get me."
The shaky voice repeated please before disconnecting. He smacked the steering wheel with his hand. He'd seen her go through many storms. There were two ways she'd react. Total fear or total fascination. He couldn't tell which way she was triggered over the recording.
A white car slowed in front of him. He tapped the brakes, feeling the bridge sway under his vehicle.
His biggest fear was that she'd walk straight out in the storm. Walk out on the sandbar and try and prove to everyone, including him, that she was responsible for her father's death.
He hoped she hunkered down and hid inside somewhere. It would be easier to pull her out of a panic than the high that often grasped her, making her ignore the dangers around her.
"Come on," he muttered.
With the storm, it took twice as long to get off the bridge. Other drivers were cautious, aware of the risks of driving too fast, and probably caught up in seeing the power of the tide slam against the steel cantilever from close-up.
By the time he looped around, came down on the street and entered the flow of traffic, daylight had gone, and he had to strain to see in the beam of headlights with the downpour bouncing off the asphalt and his windshield. He spotted the two-story, brick building Katie planned to show possible buyers up ahead.
He changed lanes, cutting in front of a crew cab. Going one more street, he turned and made a U-turn on the side street. Then, he parked his car against the curb.
Katie's broken-down vehicle sat four spots ahead, near the corner. He grabbed his keys and ran through the rain, stopping at the passenger window of her car. Using his shirt sleeve, he wiped the rain off the glass and peered inside.
The car was empty.
He turned around and scanned the sidewalk, hoping he missed her. Not seeing her, he shouted, "Katie?"
Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he came away empty. He ran back to the car, reached inside, and grabbed the cell he'd left behind in his hurry to find her.
He tapped Katie's contact number and put the phone to his ear while he walked down to the vacant building.
Her voice mail came on. Not bothering to leave a message, he shoved the phone in his pocket and kept looking for her. If she wasn't in her car, there was a chance that she was drawn to the storm.
He jogged around the building, looking for any alcove she could've ducked into to get out of the rain. The longer it took, the harder he breathed, and the more worried he became.
"Katie?" The wind sucked his voice away.
Going along the boardwalk, he scanned the docks. There were six of them altogether. He'd been down here enough to know in rough weather, it was dangerous to stand on the floating boards. The current could sweep him, or anyone, off his feet before he knew what hit him.
Reaching the third one, he spotted a lone figure standing at the bottom of the stairs at the entrance to the dock. He strained to see through the rain and darkness.
Blonde hair blew in the wind. His chest throbbed. Knowing Katie wouldn't hear him next to the water, he ran, taking the steps three at a time. He reached her before she noticed him behind her.
Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled her back, forcing her up the stairs. Once he had her on safe ground, he turned her around.
She stared blankly in his face. "Did you drive over the bridge?"
Was that what she worried about? He wrapped her in his arms, holding her sheltered against his body, trying to protect her from the wind. Soaked to the bone, she shook against him.
"Let's get you home." He picked her up.
She latched on to him and buried her face in his neck. Even her breathing on his skin gave him chills. She wouldn't suffer from the cold. It was fifty-five degrees out. But the wetness coupled with her fright could make it more challenging to bring her out of her panic.
At the door of his vehicle, she lifted her head. "My car?"
"I'll call a tow truck tomorrow morning." He shifted her and opened the door, putting her inside.
She shook, her teeth chattering. Because she wasn't letting go of his neck, he buckled her in, making sure she stayed in the seat.
"You need to let go of me, Katie." He swept the wet strands of hair off her face. "Come on. I'm taking you home now."
Her arms slipped from around him. He exited the car, shut the door, and scrambled around to the other side, running on pure adrenaline. She was safe. Now, he'd deal with the aftermath.
He pulled away from the curb and turned the heater on full-blast. Sweat trickled down his temple. From the moment he'd heard the panic in her voice, he'd run hot. She was making progress, but the damn storms triggered her every single time in one way or another.
"There's no more lightning," she murmured.
He refused to take his gaze off the road and reached over and felt for her hand. Giving her a squeeze, he said, "Just rain."
She held on to him.
Thankful for an automatic car, he navigated the hill, gate, and neighborhood with one hand on the steering wheel. He pulled into the garage.
"Let's get you inside and warmed up." He walked around the car and helped her stand.
She clung to his arm. He slowly walked with her. Inside the kitchen, he tossed his keys and phone on the counter.
"I'll fill the bathtub." He removed her from his arm.
"No." She headed toward the sliding doors. "Hot tub."
A trail of water followed her. He made sure she'd go and not sit down on the patio, lost in her head.
Outside, he turned on the pool lights, which also lit the hot tub area by the shallow end. Thinking she would kick off her shoes and go in with all her clothes, it was several seconds after he caught sight of her slim back that she was removing her clothes. By then, he couldn't look away.
Her back curved as she unfastened her jeans and struggled with pushing them down. The soaking wet material clung to her hips, her thighs. Her heavy breathing reached his ears as she grew more exhausted.
He stepped forward and put his hands on her hips. Without a word, he peeled her jeans down her legs. She braced her hand on his shoulder, balancing on him as she lifted one foot and then the other. It was when he had her stripped naked, he noticed she hadn't been wearing shoes.
Usually in flipflops, she must've lost them when he carried her to the car.
Straightening, he ogled her in the dim light from the pool, then took her hand and led her to the water, steadying her as she took the steps and lowered her body into the hot tub.
Submerged, she sighed, closing her eyes an extra beat. He found himself aroused through his concern for her. Not wanting to leave her in case she fell asleep, he continued to watch out for her. She was tired and vulnerable. The warm temperature would o
nly make her more exhausted.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Stay with me."
That's all she had to ask. It wasn't his desire that had him toeing off his shoes. He stripped off his shirt. He would do anything for her.
In her state, she needed him. He took the rest of his clothes off. Like a wounded bird in the rain, he would comfort her.
He slipped into the water beside her.
Her smooth leg brushed against his thigh. He could no longer control his body's reaction to her, and yet he refrained from touching her.
As her psychologist, his main concern was her wellbeing. He would help her find the strength to recover, teach her how to depend on herself, and find the tools to make the right choices for the next time it stormed.
She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. "I could see you dying on the sandbar. It was so real to me. You were there with the rain beating down on you, and you refused to move off the sand. I'd open my eyes and tell myself that I was only imagining you there—like you'd taught me to do. But all I could think about was getting as close to the water as possible, so if your car got swept over the bridge, I could jump in and save you. I tried to stop thinking about it like you taught me, but I got confused. It was my father I was seeing, and then it was you. I can't stop thinking about you..."
Her fingers slid into his hand. He held on to her.
"You're safe. I'm here." He kissed the top of her head.
"I knew you drove over the bridge. I knew it deep in my heart."
"How?"
"I don't know." She turned and rubbed her cheek against his. "I just knew."
Her lips skimmed his mouth. Holding still, he let her explore. His heart thrummed, beating his resolve to keep his distance from her down.
"We can't." The words scratched his throat as they came out. "Katie..."
"Mm." She shifted, floating with the water until she was in front of him, her legs straddling his body. Her mouth never left his face. "We can."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"I've known we belong together since I was twelve years old." She looped her arms around his neck.