Catch Me Falling (8 page)

T
hen Isaac reappeared
, a large glass of water in one hand and a small packet of ibuprofen in the other.

Alexa stared from the glass to him and back. “What?”

He sat the glass down in front of her, put the packet of meds next to it. Sank into the chair across from her. “Drink up.”

“Did you prescribe them?” Alexa looked at them somewhat dumbly. She was supposed to be smarter than this, dammit. It was early, but that didn’t excuse anything.

“It’s from the first aid kit,” he said with a wry smile. “They’re over the counter, don’t worry.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, trying to fight the gratefulness that rose up in her. She wanted to smile, be sheepish, give him a kiss in thanks. Instead she stared down at her desk, ripped open the pills, tossed them in her mouth, and took a sip of the water. The water felt strange to her parched mouth. She really was dehydrated. Oops.

“Drink the rest of the water.”

She could feel her pulse accelerating, feel the butterflies in her stomach. Did he care? Or was it convenience, looking after the woman who currently shared whatever space was available for sex? She doubted that, more than she ever had. There had been need in his eyes, Monday night at the bar. She drank the water, trying not to look at him. Apparently she was even more susceptible to him hungover than she was sober. What a surprise. “I won't be here tomorrow,” she said. “I've got court.”

Isaac cocked his head to the side.

“Well, I am a lawyer. I do go to court.”

“What's it like?” he asked, leaning forward and looking at her intently.

She looked at him suspiciously. Was he mocking her? Most people didn’t really care. But all she saw in his eyes was intense curiosity. “It could be worse.”

The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. “I bet.”

“Depends on the defense lawyer. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're bad. The evidence, too.” Alexa paused, thinking through her answer. “We do a lot of plea deals, because litigation for medical malpractice can be a long and difficult process.” That was putting it politely. “Especially when it comes to public relations. Plus lay juries can be hit or miss on how much they understand.”

Isaac was already nodding. He probably had a lot of experience coming up with easy to understand medical explanations for non-medical, or lay, people. They got everyone, from the homeless to upper class. From the my-kid-has-sniffles to the dead or dying.

“Have you ever done this before?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

He shook his head. “Not consulting. I worked with a medical malpractice attorney once, in medical school.”

“Doing what?”

His eyes grew distant. “One of my instructors was involved in a malpractice case.” He shrugged. “It was certainly eye-opening.”

She couldn't imagine what that would have been like. What if one of her professors had been disbarred? Did Isaac question what that instructor had taught him?

“Was it substantiated?” she asked. It was probably wrong of her to ask if the instructor was guilty, but she was curious. It felt so much more important than it actually was. As if him sharing this with her was a step forward, was him opening up to her. He was the kind of man who felt like an open book, with all of his charm, but really everyone knew very little.

Slowly, he nodded. Then he met her gaze, smiled a warm, tired smile. It wasn’t wicked, it wasn’t sexy. It was professional, almost, but in a fond sort of way. “What else do you need?”

“That's all I have right now,” she said, then glanced around her office. “I’ll probably have some new cases for you Friday. I know there’s a breast cancer case coming to my plate, so if you know an oncologist you could refer as a witness, I’d appreciate it.”

He grimaced. “I'll try.”

She studied him for a moment. He wasn’t the first doctor to balk at finding other doctors to be witnesses, even though he had come through. “Is it really that bad, serving as a witness?”

He seemed to savor the question, roll it around before he formed an answer he liked. “There's a stereotype,” he said finally, “that medical malpractice attorneys only go after good, hard-working doctors. Anybody who testifies is going after those who shouldn't be prosecuted.”

She nodded. It was one of the reasons why she didn’t mingle with hospital staff. “Well, I do try to only go after those who need it.”

He smiled at her, and it was the smile that made her stomach do a giddy flip. “I know,” he said. “Otherwise I wouldn't find you witnesses.”

It was the strangest compliment she had ever received, but it made her stomach flutter like there was butterflies in it. It shouldn't matter, and she knew it. The fact that he trusted her about her job didn't matter in the long run. He was not the one that was opposing her in court, or evaluating her skills. But the fact that he thought highly of her made her smile.

“Well it seems you're quite good at what you do, too.”

His smile was enigmatic, one side of his lips curving up. There was something raw about it, something real. Like he was sharing an inside joke. He winked. “We’re on equal footing, then.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away from him. He could play her so well. “Yes.” She looked at him, considering for a brief moment taking a risk. Asking him out.

Then he stood. “Do you need anything else from me?”

Yes, she thought. I need you.

“No, I think we’re good.” She glanced at the files on her desk, then back at him. “Thanks for dropping by. I’ll see you on Friday?”

He hesitated at her door, his hand on the doorframe. He turned to look at her, and his dark blue eyes were unreadable.

It scared her, his mask. It wasn’t charming, wasn’t smiling. It didn’t feel like him. It just felt – empty. Then he smiled, his reassuring face back, and nodded. “Friday.”

And he disappeared out the door without another word.

Alexa sat there in her chair, an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. What had just happened?

T
hursday had gone far better
than Alexa had anticipated. She had won her case, one of her toughest yet, and although she was back at her office hours later, she still felt like she was on cloud nine. Even the thought of an hour of cleanup in her office hadn’t dampened her giddiness. Besides, after work she and Jill were going to get wine, go home, and do boring, old lady things like playing card games.

She just wasn’t as hip as she used to be.

Settling into her chair, she frowned when there was a knock on her door. Unease prickled across her skin. Who was it? Jill never knocked. Maybe it was Isaac?

Jill appeared in the doorway. “There’s an Eric Sinclair, from Sinclair, Bates, and Roberts, here to talk to you?” Her voice was the clipped, professional voice she used around anyone other than Alexa.

“Send him in.” Alexa quickly refiled patient files, locking them up so there was no confidential information around. She had heard of Sinclair, Bates, and Roberts before – they were one of the best malpractice shops around – but she had never talked to anyone from the firm. Why was he there?

“Miss Matthews?” A tall, middle-aged man came into her office. He was dressed in a neat three-piece suit.

She stood as he entered, feeling a bit underdressed even in her impeccably tailored pinstripe suit. “Yes, hello – Mr. Sinclair, Jill said?”

He reached over, shook her hand, and then they settled into the chairs opposite each other. “Call me Eric.”

Alexa smiled politely. Why, exactly, was the super-well-known attorney sitting in her dinky office? “How can I help you, Eric?”

“I saw your win in court today,” Eric said, his gaze intent on her.

She couldn’t help the grin, the adrenaline that surged through her veins at the thought of it. Yes, it had been amazing, hadn’t it? “It was a tough case,” she said modestly.

“You handled it well.” He smiled.

She smiled back. “Thank you.”

“How satisfied are you with your job?” Eric raised his eyebrows.

Alexa leaned slightly back in her chair. Interesting. “The hospital has served me well since I left law school.”

“We could offer you a partnership track. An office of your own, with a view. Whatever you wanted.” He proceeded to outline everything. Salary, details, the training and partnership processes. Anything and everything she would have asked, he answered.

She blinked. And then blinked again. That was – that was good. It was the best offer she had ever heard. But it would mean leaving Jill, leaving her hospital. Leaving Isaac. As much as she didn’t want him to factor into her calculations of her life trajectory, he did.

“Thank you, but no thank you,” she said, putting her most professional smile on her face.

He studied her for a moment. “Are you certain?”

She hesitated, and she knew he could see it. He was too good of a lawyer to have not seen it. “For now.”

He nodded good-naturedly and then stood. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he said, extending a hand for her to shake.

She shook his hand, dazed. “Thank you for the offer,” she said in return.

Then he nodded, and was gone. Alexa blinked at his retreating form, sank into her chair. He would be back, she would bet on it. No one gave an offer like that and took the first no. She would have to think about it. It was the job offer of a lifetime, after all.

A
lexa stifled
a yawn as she parked her car outside Isaac’s house. She had tossed and turned most of the night, but hadn’t dreamed. She was grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to be dealing with a bad dream when they were supposed to be having fun. Not that she was completely normal.

After Damien showing up at the bar, touching her, some of her paranoia had come back. She flinched at the smallest sounds, her pulse accelerating and her palms getting sweaty. Standing at Isaac’s door, butterflies swarmed her stomach. What if, what if, what if, her brain cried. What if he was wrong? What if he hurt her? What if he killed her?

She forced herself to knock on the door.

“Good morning,” he said, and he smiled at her in a warm way that made her insides go all gooey. It was too early in the morning for him to be looking so – so – sexy. He looked like he had just stepped out of a men’s magazine. His hair was tousled, his jeans tight around his amazing ass. His shirt was a swim shirt, made to go under a wet suit and, as everything else, it just seemed to accentuate his body.

Damn his abs.

“Hi,” she said, not able to manage much else.

He smiled at her, a warm smile, and then he closed the door and locked it. “Ready to go?”

“If you are.” She was holding her two bags, and that was all she needed.

He unlocked his car and started it. “Put them in the trunk,” Isaac said, nodding towards the popped-open back of the car. She placed them in there, careful of his equipment in there, and then got in the car.

I
saac started the car
, turned on the radio to the station she liked. He was too drained to talk. There had been another nightmare last night, abstract and painful. He hated those the most. They just left him shaking, anguished, but with no reason. Part of him had wanted to cancel, but the rest of him had wanted to see her. She was like a balm to his broken soul. She could make him feel better, no matter what had happened.

Alexa stirred in the seat next to him, shifting so that she could look out the window. “I’m going to take a nap,” she said.

“Okay.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She looked tired, more tired than she had when he had seen her Wednesday. They hadn’t crossed paths on Friday, she had just emailed him the cases.

She shifted in the seat, closed her eyes. Tucked her head into the nook between the window and the seatbelt. She looked cute like that. Soft and vulnerable. It made him want to protect her, to watch over her. He dragged his gaze away from her and back to the road. She was vulnerable. Heartbreakingly so. And he was so, so bad for her.

What if he snapped, like his father did? What if he broke? His father’s personality switch hadn’t come completely out of the blue. There had been warning signs, in retrospect. The way he had turned against Ellie. The way he cut their aunts and uncles out of their lives. Isaac hadn’t known, of course. No one told a seven-year-old boy about such things. But he had found out afterwards.

“You look so serious,” Alexa murmured softly.

He jolted, startled, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled at her, reassuring. “Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

He turned down the radio a notch, suddenly aware of how much time had passed. “We’re almost there.”

“Did Ellie make breakfast?”

He chuckled. “Yes, she did.”

“Good.” She moved in the seat, tilting her head so she could look at him.

He thought about saying something, anything, but everything seemed so clichéd. Instead he reached out, took one of her hands and twined their fingers together. He could drive the last fifteen minutes with just one hand.

He smiled at her, ignored the warmth that pulsed through him when she smiled back. Why did that make him so happy? Whatever it was, it needed to stop. It was sex. Just sex.

Wasn’t it?

A
lexa swam to the beach
, enjoying the feeling of the sand beneath her toes. She was soaking, with water dripping from the end of her ponytail as she tried to wring it out. She watched as Isaac parked the boat and tied it up. She was drenched both under and over her wet suit from the morning of wakeboarding. It was amazing, and she loved it, but she was tired.

“Go again?” He walked off the small dock, his full lips curved into a grin.

She glanced at her stomach, heard it growl. She grinned sheepishly. “I think it's time for a break.”

“Lunch is outside today.” He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on the curves of her body. “Do you want a towel?”

Alexa stopped for a moment, checking out the wind, how cold it was outside. “I’m good,” she said, wishing she wasn’t so he would have an excuse to touch her. He nodded and then led the way up the beach. There was a red and white checkered blanket on the sand, weighted down by three baskets.

She looked at him, surprised.

“Ellie,” he said in way of explanation.

“You should give her a raise.” Alexa grabbed a couple towels and sat them on the beach next to the blanket. She wasn’t cold yet, but it could be just a matter of time. “Or learn to cook.” She looked at the multiple baskets, marveling at how Ellie seemed to expect both of them to eat it all. “Does she know that you shouldn't wakeboard on a full stomach?”

There was that wry, enigmatic smile that made her toes curl. It was like he was laughing with her, amused at something she had said. “We’ll take it easy after lunch. I’ll give you a tour of the lake.”

It sent a little thrill through Alexa’s stomach that even though they weren't wakeboarding, weren’t doing work, he still wanted to spend time with her. “That would be nice.”

He handed her a sandwich and she unwrapped it, taking a peek at it. She wasn’t a picky eater, not particularly, but she was careful anyway. It looked delicious, some sort of BLT on sourdough. Then she bit into it and had to stifle a groan. There was some sort of condiment on it that was freaking fantastic. The flavor exploded in her mouth. “God.”

“Me or the sandwiches?” He raised his eyebrows.

Alexa blushed. “The sandwiches.”

He chuckled.

“You should learn to make these,” Alexa said without thinking.

“So I can make them for you?”

“No.” Alexa considered. “Yes.”

“I don’t cook.” Isaac regarded her with mild, amused skepticism, and then finished off his first sandwich and pulled out a second.

“You don’t cook or you can’t cook?”

“Both.”

“I could teach you.” It had been so long since she had flirted that she wasn’t even sure if she was doing it right. Was she supposed to be flirting? It was so easy to be comfortable with him.

“I could get the recipe from Ellie,” he said slowly.

Alexa looked at him, cautiously hopeful. That could be fun, something to do other than wakeboarding or having sex. She wanted to spend more time with him. “We could cook for dinner?”

“Ellie has dinner in the oven.” Isaac had finished his second sandwich and was on a third. How much could he eat? Then again, there was so much more of him. She was jealous. Three sandwiches and she’d be too stuffed to move for the rest of the day.

“How about...” Alexa considered what she was going to say. “How about I come over to your place?” It was safer than cooking at her place, less personal. Plus, that way he would be more familiar with cooking in his own place. That made sense. Didn’t it?

“Are you a good teacher?” His eyes were doing that smoldering thing, and the way he bit into that sandwich should have been illegal. How could someone make biting into a sandwich sexy? She had no idea. But he did. It was, frankly, indecent.

“Yes?” she managed.

The smolder vanished and Alexa could breathe again. “When?” He tilted his head to the side.

“When do you work? I’ve got court Thursday and Friday, but we could do -”

“Wednesday at six pm?”

“That works.” She was relatively certain it did, anyway. “We can make enough for leftovers.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “You just want to eat the sandwiches again.”

She grinned. “Don’t you?”

“They are good.” Isaac’s grin was wicked.

Definitely on purpose, too. Alexa took another bite of her sandwich, studiously ignoring the way her cheeks had heated up.

It wasn’t long before they had finished lunch. There was no way the baskets had been emptied, but Alexa at least was not going anywhere fast. “She doesn't want us to wakeboard.” She shouldn't have had that third sandwich, even though it was dainty.

“She doesn't approve of hobbies where you risk your life.” Isaac sounded amused, like it was an echo of an argument repeated over and over.

“You hear that often?” Alexa asked, her voice teasing.

Isaac looked at her, blue eyes piercing, and Alexa's insides fluttered. “Something like that.” He stood, looking down at her. “Ready to go?”

She smiled, standing. “Yes.” She glanced at the food. “Ellie will clean up?” She couldn’t help but wonder what the inside of his house looked like, if Ellie always cleaned up after him.

Isaac glanced at her. “Of course.” A faint smile played about on his lips. “Follow me.”

She did.

Without a word he helped her into the boat, settled her in the passenger seat. Neither of them said anything. She didn’t want to break what was in the air. The magic. She could smell him, his scent mingling with the lake water. Musky, but a hint of evergreen that she could always smell around him. She could practically feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his thigh pressed against her. Part of her felt like she couldn't breathe. Like it was too much, having him there right next to her. But the same time it felt right. She felt safe.

“This lake used to be a river,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the motor. “There used to be a bridge across it, when it was smaller. When the lake expanded, the bridge wasn’t a bridge anymore.”

History wasn’t necessarily her thing, but he could have talked about anything and she would have listened. He continued talking about the history of the town, of the lake. She had to stifle a yawn, the soreness in her muscles reminding her how tired she was. He glanced at her, took a hand off the wheel and gently placed it on her thigh. Nonchalant. As if it was nothing.

To her it felt like something. It felt like maybe he wanted to go over that cliff, too. To do something more than just sex wherever they could get it. She could hear her heart beating faster, feel her breath come just that much quicker.

Then a jet ski sped past and he put both hands back on the wheel to correct the path of the boat. “Want to see the old bridge?” he asked, his voice loud over the sound of the wake.

“I'd love to,” she said, suddenly shy. It felt different; they were doing something other than wakeboarding or sex. Both were physical exertions, designed to wear them out. This was different.

Isaac turned his attention back to the boat, edging it towards the side of the lake. There weren’t any docks that Alexa could see, but skillfully he grounded the boat with its nose up on the shallow edge of the beach.

“Up to getting your feet dirty?” He looked at her, that teasing smile on his face.

Alexa rolled her eyes. It wouldn't have been the first time her entire body had gone in the lake. Her feet were nothing.

She was the first off the boat and up the side of the beach. Gritty sand crunched under her sandals. The lake was relatively shallow and clear. For at least a few feet she could see the bottom, see plants and a few small darting fish. Nothing had nibbled her toes while wakeboarding, a fact she was grateful for.

“There’s the bridge.” Isaac touched her shoulder and she turned, looking at the tall, house-like structure. It was old, the white paint peeling away on the sides, but it looked majestic. There was something haunting about it that drew her to it.

Alexa led the way, more eager than she had anticipated. She took a few steps inside, her gaze roaming around the structure. She moved closer to the side, fingertips moving cautiously across the wooden beams. The last thing she wanted was a splinter.

Not that it was stopping her from walking around in her bare feet. Oops.

She could feel Isaac standing close to her, just behind her to the side. She felt safe with him standing there. Like he was anchoring her in the midst of her wonder. “Do people still use this?”

“No.” He nodded in the direction of the far side, where it was blocked off with wooden slats.

“It's gorgeous,” she murmured. She could feel the history, the secrets this place must have known. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathed it in. The energy that place had revitalized her, invigorated her. It made her feel free. History was just history, after all. Her history didn’t have to have a negative impact on her future.

She turned around to see where Isaac was, if he had moved, but he was right there, his gaze intent on her. There was no smile on his face, just his eyes on hers. That want, that need, sent a shiver down her spine, made heat coil low in her belly.

Without a word Isaac moved slightly closer, but not to touch her - instead he pointed to the wall, to a small carving there. Three initials, IW, DW, JW. She looked at him, not understanding – and a little bit disappointed he hadn’t kissed her. She wasn’t big on exhibitionism, but with him, anything was fair game.

“My family came here a lot,” Isaac said, his gaze locked on the letters. Alexa watched him, hypnotized. He was trusting her, telling her something. That was a good sign, right? “Isaac, Daniel, and Julie,” he said softly. He glanced at her, studied her face. “My siblings and I.” He took a deep breath.

“Do they come here, too?”

He looked - sad. There was his mask, his guarded face, but there was sadness about his lips, in his eyes. “They died when I was young, along with my parents. They were murdered.” His gaze flickered towards the initials, then towards her. “This is one of the few things I have left of them.”

She inhaled sharply, startled. No wonder he was close to Ellie, had been close to his grandparents. He had no one else. And she could understand, in a way. She knew everything about losing a family – except she had given hers up to save herself. Were her siblings alive? She had no idea. “I’m sorry.”

A sad smile flickered across his lips. “It’s been twenty five years.”

She reached out, halfway, stopped. She wanted to comfort him, hold him. Would he let her touch him? Would he pull away? He moved closer, just a smidge. He was very much in her space, so close that all he had to do was lean down and kiss her.

His eyes locked on hers. She held her breath, her heart thudding so loudly in her chest that she was sure everyone could hear. This was different. It felt different. It wasn’t heated, in the moment. It was softness, vulnerability. Trust and openness. It was everything she needed but didn’t know she wanted.

Then his lips touched hers, soft and warm. He moved slowly against her, sneaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close. The thick wet suit dulled the sensation, but nothing could dull the heat that raced through her at his touch. He deepened the kiss, slid his tongue against hers, and she shuddered, whimpered into his mouth. She felt like she was drowning, like she was falling, and all that kept her safe was him. His arms around her. He was her anchor.

His kiss had ignited a fire in her, a heat. All she wanted was more of him. She was like an addict for him and his touch.

One hand cupped her head, tilted her face so the kiss could deepen even further. She felt like molten lava, like she had melted. The kiss shifted, become slow and lazy. Eternal. She slid her hands up his chest, resting them on his pectorals. She wished she could touch him, feel his skin under her fingers. Wished there wasn’t the thick cloth of their wet suits between them.

His hand slid to her breast, squeezed, and she shivered underneath him. Her nipples were hard, her body aching for his touch. She wanted to rip off her wetsuit, let him underneath – but she couldn’t. Then he would see the scars and he wouldn’t understand. Or would he?

He had shared his pain with her. Maybe she could share her pain with him.

She pulled back, looked at him. She saw the flush on his cheeks, knew there must be one on hers. She leaned forward, kissed him several more times. Sweet, light, butterfly kisses. His gaze was steady on hers, searching.

“Oh,” he said softly. He leaned down, kissed her gently one more time. She swallowed, looked away. But she didn't run. The world hadn't ended, and he hadn't gone crazy. Hadn’t threatened her, hadn’t thrown her for daring to take charge. It made her stomach do happy somersaults. Maybe she could trust him. She could depend on him. He had trusted her with his story. She would share some of hers.

Not yet. When they got back to the house.

She was still pressed flush against him, could feel him hard against her even through the thick cloth. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft. He reached out and tucked a strand of her half-dried hair behind her ear, his callused hands so gentle against her skin. The moment they went back out on the boat it would get messed up again, but it tickled her that he tried.

She slid her arms around him, leaned her head on his chest. Closed her eyes. He held her, pressed a kiss to her head. “Yes.” He stroked a hand up and down her back, comforting. It felt freeing, trusting him. Believing that he would do the right thing. She had jumped off the cliff and he had caught her.

He tilted her head up and kissed her head again. “Do you want to go back?”

“I want to see the water.” She nodded to the feeble bridge, to the edge that was blocked off with wooden slats. He let go of her and took her hand, twining their fingers together as they walked towards the edge. She liked that feeling of connection, having a point of focus between her and him.

They stood for a few minutes, looking out over the water. The sun was starting to set and she could see the moon start to rise. It was barely visible against the red-orange of the sunset, but it was there. She tossed a small stone into the lake, watched the ripples disturb the rays. The air was starting to get colder, but she wasn’t cold. Isaac kept her warm.