A flicker of pain flashed in his eyes. "But, Dana, the accident happened twelve years ago. There might be new treatments, medication, some advancements in all that time."
"I get regular checkups to make sure my physical therapy and massages keep my muscles from atrophying." Despite all that, her calves and feet were withered, something else that had been hard to accept. Even now she hated looking at them. "No miracles on the horizon."
He didn’t respond.
Dana felt her throat get tight. His questions indicated he thought her situation could change. She wondered if their dating was dependent on that. "Let’s be clear, Joe. I’ll never be able to walk again."
"And I’m incredibly sad about that."
At least he didn’t argue for her to check out experimental cures. Her situation would remain as it was, and now, with her confession, the ball was in his court. She’d told him what had happened, her current physical condition, and the decision to date her was his. Though she was scared about pursing a relationship with him, she wanted to, even more now that she’d met him. In person, his appreciative glances made her aware of her femininity, her sexuality, which she’d suppressed for a very long time.
"That’s enough for today, don’t you think? You have all the information you need to decide if you still want to see me."
He waited a beat. "There’s one thing I don’t understand. On your profile, you put down that you worked out with weights every day, you ran in marathons and took yoga. We even laughed that we were both pool sharks. Was that true?"
"Yes. I do weight-bearing exercises daily to build my upper body strength because it’s crucial to living independently. I take a special yoga class for disabled people three times a week. And I never said I ran in marathons. I participate in wheelchair-racing contests occasionally. I have to work out aerobically to get in shape for those."
His expression was unreadable.
"Oh, dear God, you think I lied to you? On purpose?" How had she missed the possibility that he might think she’d deceived him with her list of exercises? But she truly hadn’t considered his misinterpretation.
"I don’t know, honestly. All this—" he gestured to the chair "—comes as more of a shock because you put all those activities on your profile."
"It never occurred to me. I was completely truthful, but I can see now how you’d feel betrayed." Reaching out, she clasped his arm. "I’m sorry. I’d never lie to you, Joe, I promise you."
"I can accept your explanation. But in the end, you did lie, Dana. A lie of omission."
"Then I’m sorry for it." Dana didn’t want to discuss her situation anymore. Baring her soul was exhausting and painful. "Let’s make a deal. You go home and think about what you’ve just found out. Maybe research my injury on the Net. Decide what you want to do."
"What’s your part in the deal?"
"I’ll accept any decision you make without fuss. I don’t want a man who can’t accept me as I am. That would be devastating." Earth-shattering, really, and it terrified her.
"I understand."
Taking money from his pocket, Joe put it on the bill the waiter had brought. When the guy came back, he asked, "Need me to get the chair for you, Dana?"
"No, I’ll do it." Joe stood.
Dana watched Joe retrieve her chair. He’d been charming and fun in person. More so, he’d been genuinely concerned about her. He also didn’t make rash statements about her condition not bothering him or offer any platitudes. Unfortunately, all that only made him more attractive to her.
Her insecurities returned and she wondered if she’d made the right decision to meet him, to be honest and give their relationship a shot. There was a high probability he wouldn’t want to see her again, which meant on her very first foray into the social scene, she’d opened herself up to some big-time rejection. She hoped she hadn’t been a fool to test the dating world waters with a man like Joe Moretti.
Chapter 3
* * *
DUMFOUNDED, JOE WAS totally off his game. It was an understatement to say he was shocked by Dana’s disclosure. She’d looked so fit in her online photo, and her profile had listed physical activities she enjoyed, the ones he’d asked about. Plus, she owned a freaking dance studio. How was he to be prepared for what she’d told him, for what he was witnessing right now?
His emotions piled one on top of the other as she aligned the two chairs, braced a hand on the far side of the wheelchair and put the other on her right side. Then she inched herself over until she’d successfully transferred. Finally, she raised the arms. "Ready?" she asked. Her movements had been efficient and easily accomplished, but the strain around her eyes and mouth told Joe her confession had drained her.
"Yeah, sure." The chair was manual and, totally out of his depth, he asked, "Do you, um, want me to push you?"
She shaded her eyes as she looked up at him. "No, I’ve got it, thanks."
He followed her out of the eating area and around the side of the building to a small parking lot. She approached a minivan, which sat in a handicap space. "This is mine."
Joe placed his hand on the back of the chair. Though he was reeling over what she’d told him, or maybe because of it, he didn’t want to be alone with the information she’d given him. He needed more contact with her. So he did what he was good at to get what he wanted. He flirted. "Care to give an injured cop a ride home? I can’t drive yet."
Glancing anxiously at the van, she said, "If you want me to."
She fished a remote out of her purse, pressed a button, and Joe heard the locks click. She used it again and the back-passenger door slid open. She hit the command a third time and a ramp lowered from the car to the blacktop. The floor must be altered in the vehicle because the incline wasn’t too bad. He noted there were no seats in the back or the driver’s position. Only one for a passenger was in place. They hadn’t had vans equipped like this for daily use when his dad was sick, and traveling anywhere with him had been a nightmare.
Dana had put on fingerless gloves—he’d seen those before—and wheeled up the ramp. His fists curled as she maneuvered herself. The urge to help her was great. Standing by was foreign to him. If he did indeed date her, that trait was going to be hard to control. His first instinct would be to make things easier for her by doing whatever task she needed done, and she’d made it clear that she wanted self-sufficiency. His mom had told him his father had been adamant about being independent for as long as he could. But the helplessness Joe felt about his dad’s condition had been frightening and frustrating and he was feeling a modicum of that emotion now.
After she’d positioned herself in the driver’s side, Joe slid onto the front seat.
She glanced over at him, her brows knitted. "You sure you want to ride with me? Some people don’t feel safe with all this equipment. With me driving."
Joe knew he didn’t want to be lumped into that group. He always thought of himself as open-minded. More than Spence and maybe even Cole. So he winked at her. "I been in harrowing car chases, darlin’. I think I can handle you at the wheel."
She smiled at him. It was a beautiful, sunny smile that shot to his nerve endings. All of them. It was amazing—in the midst of the shock and sadness he was feeling at her confession, she’d turned him on with just one look!
"Where to?" she asked.
"Crittenden Drive. It’s over by—"
"Strong Hospital. I know. I’ve made myself well acquainted with the city streets of Rockland. I like to have as much control over my environment as I can get."
"Yeah, I guess everybody does." He pointed to the console between them. "How do you do the gas pedal and brakes?"
Grasping on to one of the protruding sticks, her fingers curled around its rounded top. "This is the brake, the other’s the gas pedal. They’re specially designed to minimize the amount of pressure I have to exert to work both of them."
"Dana, do you have any feeling in your legs?"
"From the knees up I do."
He
nodded. That was good. Very good, for a lot of reasons, the biggest one being that she would be sexually functional.
She drove carefully, but not slow enough to be a nuisance to other motorists. He imagined the notion of a car accident terrified someone without the use of her legs. He bet after the accident that she was terrified much of the time. She was lovely, sweet, sincere and sensitive, and she’d had this horrible thing happen to her. When he finally let in his emotional reaction to her situation, it just about broke his heart.
He cleared his throat. "Do you live in the city?" he asked.
"No. My house and studio are in Fairfield." A nice suburb twenty minutes from where Joe lived. "We really like it there. And my home was built as wheelchair accessible even before I bought it."
"We?"
"My partner in the studio, Ruth Cosgrove, lives with me, too."
"Isn’t that unusual?"
"Not in our case." They pulled up to a stoplight and she studied him while they waited. "She’s the fan who came backstage that night, Joey."
What the hell? "Let me get this straight, the woman who caused your accident lives with you?"
"I told you, she wasn’t at fault. It was the hand I was dealt." When he was still unconvinced, she frowned deeply. "If you can’t accept that Ruth isn’t to blame for my circumstances, we shouldn’t even start dating."
"Why do I have to agree with you on that?"
"I’d never hurt Ruth by having someone around who resented and blamed her. She did enough of that to herself when the accident happened."
"I’m sorry, Dana. I’ll think more about it. Maybe I’m being irrational. But know this, I wouldn’t hurt anybody intentionally."
She went on to tell Joe how Ruth had gone for training in occupational therapy, taken some massage courses and, though she wasn’t certified, she was a damn fine masseuse.
"So she gave up her whole life for you?"
"In some ways, though she’ll tell you it wasn’t a sacrifice. Her husband had died, she hadn’t worked in years, and she had no children. She was at loose ends, so when living with my boyfriend and then my father didn’t work out for me, she suggested we move in together here in Rockland. A few years later, we opened a dance studio. She runs the business side and I teach classes with a demonstrator."
There wasn’t a whit of bitterness in Dana’s tone. Oh, there probably had been at first, and maybe for a long time after her career had ended. But she was remarkable for having accepted her condition and having an attitude like this.
She was remarkable, period.
And damn, there it was again. That sudden spurt of attraction, of raw desire. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to connect with her physically. His body hummed with the need.
They reached his house and Dana put the car in park next to the curb.
"Shut off the engine for a second," he said.
"What? Why?"
Impatient now, he reached over and turned the key. He released his arm from the sling, then moved as close as he could get to her. Cradling his hand around her neck, he drew her to him. "Because I wanna do this."
He lowered his head.
***
DANA DIDN'T SEE it coming. One minute they were talking and the next, she felt his hard chest against her breasts, his muscles bulge as he took in a deep breath. The gentle brush of his lips back and forth made her dizzy. And long for more. She was the one to edge closer. The scent of him filled her head and his mouth became more insistent. No man, not one, had gotten near enough to kiss her like this in a very long time. And she hadn’t realized until now how much she missed the intimate contact.
After a very long moment, it was he who pulled away. He didn’t let the kiss go on too long but still, it made her hot. She’d almost forgotten the feeling of arousal. The thought made her want to whimper.
His eyes were a midnight blue now, the pupils dilated. "Was that okay?" he asked softly. "I couldn’t help myself."
"I’d say it was a hell of a lot more than okay."
He chuckled. "I’ll call you."
She’d planned to tell him to think hard about dating a woman in a wheelchair, planned to list how their relationship would be different from any other he’d ever had. But she didn’t, choosing to let their time together end on that wonderful note. She wanted to savor the effects of the kiss still humming in her blood.
Dana watched him circle the hood, then stop when he caught sight of a family of ducks waddling out between his house and the next. This happened frequently in Rockland, ducks showing up, trying to make their way to water or woods. The canal was nearby, which must be their destination.
Once the furry little creatures reached the curb, the mother made the descent to the pavement easily, the babies doing more of tumble and roll to get down. They all started to cross the street. Joe must have heard the oncoming car because he bolted out into the road, held up his hand to stop the vehicle and waited for the ducks to waddle to the other side. Even after the car sped by, he stayed where he was, his hands propped on his hips.
The mama duckling had climbed up the far curb onto the sidewalk and the babies tried to follow. As each tackled the five-inch-high step, it fell on its back. The incline was too steep for the babies to make it up. The mother returned to them and simply stood there.
Joe looked back to Dana, who hadn’t even started the engine. He rolled his eyes and she laughed. Bending down, he scooped up one duckling and placed it on the sidewalk, then repeated the process nine more times. Seeing the ducks could follow now, the mama began her trek again.
After a moment, Joe jogged across the street and Dana buzzed the window down. His grin was infectious and she matched it with one of her own. "It’s hell what a man has to do these days."
"You’re a nice guy, Joe Moretti."
"Oh, damn. Don’t tell my cop buddies about this. I’ll never live it down."
"Yeah, they might start calling you Duckie or some such thing."
He squeezed her arm, tapped the side of the car and stepped back. Dana started the engine and pulled out onto the now duck-less street. She saw him in the mirror, all masculine grace and beauty, watching her as she left. But the image of him and the ducklings was the one that stayed with her all the way home.
***
JOE RAPPED HIS knuckles on the door to Annie’s house, then opened it and walked inside. She’d insisted Spence’s family enter without waiting for someone to let them in and Joe liked her even more for her inclusion of all of them as family.
Off to the right, Cole was perched at the top of a ladder where he was painting the living room a sand color.
"Hey, buddy, how you doing?" Cole asked.
"Lousy." Joe motioned to the walls. "How’s the painting going?"
Spence strode down the hallway that led to the kitchen. Deep blue dots speckled his T-shirt. "Be better if Annie stopped trying to help."
"Why’s that?" Joe asked.
Spence grinned. "Bad enough she wouldn’t let me pay for a service to paint the interior, but she wants to do her part." He shook his head. "For somebody with such common sense in other areas…well, let me just say she’s added hours on to our task. Don’t even ask how she taped the edges of the ceiling, windows and floorboards like she was sending a package to China."
Once again, Joe was envious of the sappy fondness in Spence’s tone, of the relationship he and Annie had forged. The reason Joe had gone on RightMatch was because he, too, wanted what Spence had in his life and he couldn’t seem to find it in bars. And look where it got him. "Women!"
Scowling, Spence cocked his head. "How’d you get here, anyway?"
"I drove."
"You’re not supposed to do that for a day or so."
"No big deal." Joe scanned the area. "Who’s here?"
"Nobody else. Annie’s over at school getting her classroom ready for September and Hope went with her. I made Alex take a break and go swimming with his friends." After studying Joe, Spence and Cole exchanged a glance. Then Sp
ence said, "Let’s go outside. I’m ready for a beer."
Joe grunted his assent.
As soon as they reached the backyard, a dog bolted from his place under a tree and ran over to them. Ah, the infamous Jake, who’d taken a liking to Spence even before Annie had. Spence scratched the mutt’s head, then they all sat down at one of the tables under the gazebo. For a few minutes, they enjoyed their beers.
Cole broke the silence. "How did the lunch go with the dancer?"
"Not so well."
"How come?" Cole again.
"Turns out she was keeping something of epic proportions from me." He still couldn’t believe what she’d been hiding. She’d left him two hours ago, and he’d gone immediately online to research her condition. Then he’d been restless from what he’d discovered, from the kiss that had knocked his socks off, and also from being pissed off at her circumstances, so he’d come here. He needed to talk.
"What is it?" Spence asked gently.
"She’s… She was a famous dancer in New York. She got hurt on a tour right here in Rockland."
"How hurt?" Spence asked.
"A girder fell on her backstage, crushing her legs."
"Oh, my God." Cole set down his beer squeezed Joe’s arm. "I’m so sorry."
"How bad is her injury?" The question came from Spence.
"She has a crush injury from the knees down. She’s in a wheelchair." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "She’ll never walk again."
Spence swore. And his brow furrowed. "I don’t get it, though. You said she owned a dance studio. That she was into all the athletic stuff you are."
Joe explained how Dana had orchestrated her life so she could live a fairly normal existence and run a business. It was incredibly complicated. And brave.
"Well, good for her," Cole commented. "She didn’t let a tragedy destroy her. And she’s still connected with dance. She must be a very special woman."
"She said the accident did destroy her, for a while. Like with me and football. But she got beyond letting it ruin her life."
Wounded Heroes Boxed Set Page 25