Safe in His Arms (7 page)

“When are you going to tell me what's wrong?”

“Why would there be anything wrong?” But he didn't look at her as he said it.

“I expected you a little earlier. Did something happen at work, or did we get our signals crossed?”

He shook his head. “Paperwork. That's just part of police work. The boring part of the job.”

“If you get this worked up over the boring part, then I'd hate to see you after you deal with something serious.”

She'd just been joking to lighten his mood, but she regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them. How
could she have forgotten, even for a minute? She was one of the people he'd met during one of those serious moments, and whether she could recall the event or not, he'd
carried her
to safety. She swallowed.

Joe was watching her, as if he was waiting for her to make that connection. He nodded over her reaction.

“I always have to be ready for those times. Always have to be sharp. On my toes.”

With each comment, his jaw flexed tighter, and his gaze seemed to bore further through her. It was obvious that he was frustrated, but she wasn't sure why. Could it involve whatever he wasn't telling her about the accident? She swallowed. What exactly had she done, and why wouldn't he tell her?

“Distractions are unacceptable,” he continued. “They can't happen. My hesitating could get somebody killed.”

His gaze met hers again, and they locked in a solemn connection. Neither mentioned that lives could be and had been lost in his work, even when he didn't hesitate. That truth was a like an elephant sitting right there on the beach with them—between them. But Lindsay couldn't let the silence stretch any further, crawling under her skin and disturbing the bits of peace and acceptance she'd fought so hard for in the past six months, so she asked one of the questions clamoring for answers.

“Did you feel distracted this morning at work after…last night?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but she rushed on, suddenly afraid of what he might say.

“Because I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you. I should have either handled the situation myself or have bit the bullet and called my parents. My not wanting to
lose face with them was no excuse for me to ask you for help.”

But he was shaking his head as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the blanket, so Lindsay stopped, giving him a chance to answer.

“You should never have to be afraid of reaching out to a friend when you need help.”

“You said that's what we are, but are you sure you meant it?”

“Why wouldn't I have?” He shifted, and instead of meeting her gaze, he looked over to Emma, who was still hard at work on her castle.

“Then why did you suggest that Emma and I are distractions rather than friends?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shoved a hand through his short hair. “That's not what I meant. I just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don't know what I meant. I'm tired, I guess, and cranky.”

“I wasn't going to mention that.”

His expression softened as he looked back at her again. “Thanks. I would expect you to be surly today as well, but you're all sunshiny. And look at her.” He indicated Emma with a tilt of his head. “She's no worse for the wear.”

“Well, Emma and I had the chance to sleep while you were out fighting crime on Michigan highways. I don't know how you were able to pull it together at six a.m.”

“Obviously, I didn't do such a good job of it.” He smiled. “I was just so off today that I worried I would make a mistake. I couldn't afford—”

He broke off, but Lindsay couldn't stop herself from filling in for him. “To make another one?”

His eyes widened, but he didn't answer.

“You can't blame yourself for what happened the day of the accident.”

“I don't,” he said finally.

“Don't you?”

His only answer was a shrug.

“You did everything you could.” Except to pull her sister from the car first, but she wouldn't say that to him now. It was her issue, not his.

“Sometimes it's just not enough.”

“Are we back to that again?” She'd said almost the same thing last night when they'd been talking about her caring for Emma.

“I guess we are.”

He was grinning when she met his gaze, and then, as if they'd planned it, they glanced at Emma at the same time.

“She's a great kid.” Lindsay couldn't help smiling as she watched her niece. “I'm going to give her the best life I can, no matter what I have to do.”

“Even if it means hanging out with a guy like me?”

“I keep saying that you offered.”

“And I keep admitting that I did, but sometimes…” He let his words trail away as he grinned at her.

“You wish you didn't?” She put her hand to her mouth in mock horror. “And I was ready to admit that you just might be able to teach me a few things about kids.”

“Well, don't go and admit something like that or I'll get all overconfident. You don't want to be responsible for that.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head slowly. “I'll just keep that information to myself, then.”

“As long as that's settled.” He paused and then
added, “You know, I don't really know that much about kids.”

“More than I do, but that doesn't take much. Emma adores you, too, and it's not completely horrifying having you around, so…”

“That's good because I'm not horrified being here.”

Staring at the ground, Lindsay became serious. “It's beyond the range of your duties to spend time with accident victims, so I'll understand if you want to go now, or if you don't want to accept any other invitations.”

He cleared his throat, so Lindsay figured whatever he said next would be something she didn't want to hear. But then he grinned.

“You got me to come all the way here, and now you're uninviting me?”

She shook her head. “No, that's not what I—”

But his suddenly serious expression stopped her.

“We're new friends, so there are things you don't know about me. But I'm going to tell you one right now.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I am never anywhere I don't want to be.”

S
he shouldn't stare. Lindsay knew that. But she couldn't make herself look away from the man who'd just spoken the most significant words any man had ever said to her. She didn't even mind that he was only doing it for Emma. She was relieved that someone else cared for Emma's well-being as much as she did and was willing to invest time to ensure that her needs were met.

But then Joe looked back at her, and their gazes touched in a connection as warm as it was confusing. She felt as if she'd been sunburned from the inside out. His smile drew her in, helplessly yet willingly. Her breath caught, and she lost the ability to blink.

Okay, she didn't have a huge frame of reference, just a select group of male friends, but she'd been able to look away from all of them. With Joe, she didn't even want to, and since time seemed to have stopped, she didn't have to force herself.

“Look, Aunt Lindsay. Look, Trooper Joe. I buried my feet.”

Lindsay blinked as a three-year-old interrupted that pause in space and time. Her castle forgotten, Emma
sat just off the blanket, her feet covered under mounds of sand.

“Well…” Lindsay paused to clear her throat “…you sure did. I can't even tell where they are.”

“They're right here, silly.” She wiggled until ten little pink toes peeked up through the sand.

“Oh, I can see some feet now.” Joe popped up and scrambled over so he could tickle Emma's feet.

Lindsay struggled to pull herself up from the blanket, her cane providing little leverage in the sand. Jumping up, Joe reached out to steady her, but she waved away his offer with a brush of her hand. The last thing she needed right now would be to feel his touch on her arm and be tempted to lean into the strength of it.

Taking a few steps closer to Emma, she settled between the castle and the child's self-burial project. Lindsay moved her feet, the sand feeling like clay between her toes. That dank fish-and-seaweed smell, distinct to lake water, rose in her nose. She might have been tempted to think that something—or someone—had awakened all of her senses, but she chose to believe instead that she hadn't been paying attention before.

“I think Emma could use some help, don't you?” Joe winked at Lindsay and then plopped down next to them and started clumping damp sand over those protruding toes.

“You're right. She needs a lot of help.”

Soon a giggling Emma was buried in the sand until her nose, eyes and mouth were her only visible parts.

“Should we let her out now?” Joe asked.

“I don't know,” Lindsay said with a laugh. “I like her this way.”

But Emma made a monsterlike sound and sat up,
with the drier sand falling away from her skin and the damper parts sticking like messy brown glue.

“Looks like somebody needs a rinse,” Joe said.

“Not me.”

But Joe scooped her up anyway and started out into the murky waters of Kent Lake. Little girl giggles and hearty male laughter followed, as they negotiated the rocky shoreline and rolled around in knee-deep water, replacing some of that sand with seaweed.

Moving back to her blanket, Lindsay leaned back on her elbows to watch them, occasionally brushing at the perspiration at her temples. There were other groups on the beach, as well—teenagers playing volleyball, young women in bikinis soaking up the rays and a couple with a baby who cried every time he got his feet wet.

Lindsay didn't know how long she'd sat there watching, but suddenly her mind had changed the story behind the people out in the water. It wasn't hard at all for her to picture Joe, Emma and herself as a warm and happy family of three. When Joe would come out of the water, Lindsay would hand him a fluffy towel so he could wrap Emma in it. Then he would shift the child to Lindsay and pull both woman and child into the safety and comfort of his arms.

Would he brush a kiss over Emma's head and then turn to touch his lips to Lindsay's? She swallowed, even as her lips tingled over the thought. What was she thinking? How had she allowed her thoughts to veer so far from reality? How had she gone from recognizing that Joe was a kind man, who was helping them because of guilt over the accident, or pity for her orphaned niece or some other reason she didn't understand, to imagining a romance between them?

Lindsay must have messed up more than her hip
socket joint in the accident if she was allowing herself to become attracted to Joe Rossetti. He was motivated by guilt. She'd accepted his offer of help, partially because she wanted answers and partially because she wasn't in the position to turn down any offer, but she couldn't allow herself to read more into their new friendship.

She was talking about Joe Rossetti, anyway. No matter how gorgeous and kind he was, and no matter how justified his reasons for making a split-second decision at an accident scene, the truth remained that he'd chosen between Lindsay and Delia. What kind of sister would even consider becoming involved with a man who'd made a choice like that? How could she betray Delia's memory that way?

“Come in with us, Aunt Lindsay,” Emma called out to her, drawing her back from the faraway place to which her thoughts had traveled.

“Yeah, sunbathing beauty, aren't you coming out to play? Afraid you'll mess up your hair?”

She understood that he was kidding. Yet a flush climbed up her neck over his compliment. Did he think she was pretty? She shook her head, knowing she shouldn't care. When was she going to stop reacting like a silly schoolgirl around Joe Rossetti?

“This hair?” She patted the mess of it piled on top of her head. “I don't think you could mess this up.”

“Then come on in,” he said.

“Please, Aunt Lindsay.”

Glancing at her cane and then to the rocky edge of the water, Lindsay shook her head. “I don't know.”

But she used the cane to struggle to her feet anyway. She decided to leave on her cover-up over her swimsuit. She wanted to do this for Emma, but she couldn't
take the cane in with her, and she was flustered enough around Joe without having to fall on her face in the water.

“Do you think she needs some encouragement, Emma?”

“Yeah. Let's go get her.”

She braced herself as Joe and Emma climbed out of the water and jogged over to her. Joe wrapped a wet hand around Lindsay's waist, leaving her with no choice but to put her arm around his shoulder. Emma clutched Lindsay's other hand and pulled her toward the water, missing that Joe was supporting most of her aunt's weight.

Joe leaned around and looked down at Emma, just as they reached the water's edge. “You see? We talked her into it.”

With the combined scents of lake water and masculine male flooding her senses, Lindsay had to concentrate on the damp chill of the swimmers sandwiching her to stay focused on the ten steps into the green water. After a few precarious seconds, as they stepped over the sharp rocks at the water's edge, they reached a sandy bottom in a shallow spot and stopped to let the tide rush past their knees.

“Thanks,” Lindsay said in a low voice. It was important to her that she be able to participate in physical activities with Emma, and Joe had seemed to understand that without her saying so.

“Anytime.”

His gaze caught hers again and held, but this time she had to look away. The image was too much like her fantasy. It made her long for things she'd never realized she wanted, things she couldn't allow herself to think about, when her focus needed to be on her niece who
had lost so much. Lindsay glanced down at the sweet little girl holding her hand, but Emma pulled away and started running circles around the two adults.

“You can't catch me,” she sang.

Lindsay braced herself, preparing to find her balance when Joe released her to chase after the child in the shallow water, but he kept his arm on her waist, his touch a warm reassurance that he wouldn't let her fall. Again, Lindsay rejected the temptation to see more than was there. Emma continued to run around and around them until she became dizzy and fell back into the water laughing.

Lindsay could relate to that feeling of being off-balance. The rational part of her was onboard with the idea that she should avoid thinking of anything beyond friendship with Joe. But that irrational part, the one that wanted things it shouldn't, was going to be harder to convince. Right now that disobedient part didn't want Joe Rossetti to let her go.

 

“Let me see those prune piggy toes.”

Joe sat up from the place on the blanket where he'd dropped to rest what had felt like only seconds ago. Minutes or hours might have passed, but he'd been too content to notice. He breathed in the smells of the water, the foliage and the peace that seemed to have its own scent and exhaled a calm that he hadn't felt in a long time.

From the other side of the blanket where they'd sandwiched Emma between them, Lindsay chuckled. “No way, buddy. You leave my prune toes alone.”

Joe glanced over in time to see Lindsay sit up and tuck her feet beneath a layer of sand. He didn't have to see them to know that she had coral-colored polish on
her pretty toes any more than he needed to see her face to know she would be blushing after what she'd said. Yes, he was supposed to notice details in his job, but it was over-the-top for him to note that her nail color matched the hue that she often wore on her lips.

“Trooper Joe was talking about
my
toes.” Emma kicked both legs up into the air and wiggled all ten of them.

“Was I?”

He certainly hoped he was because he wouldn't be able to explain anything else. He was still trying to process the rush of feelings he'd experienced when helping Lindsay in the water. It wasn't just the experience of touching her, which he'd already learned had its own electrical charge, but knowing she trusted him was exhilarating.

Joe nabbed one of Emma's feet and squeezed a plump little toe. He shook his head. “Oh, this is much worse than I thought. We have some serious pruning here.”

The worried look on Emma's face as she pulled her foot away made him laugh. He ruffled her hair. “I think they'll be fine, that is, if you spend some time out of the water.”

“But the sprinkler park…”

Joe shook his head. “Nope. That can't happen today. Those toes need a rest. And let me get a look at those fingers.” He reached for her tiny hand and turned it palm up before lifting it to show Lindsay. “Did you see these? I think a break from swimming is called for here.”

Lindsay shook her head sadly. “I have to agree.”

“We'll have to do that another day,” he said, as Emma's lips formed a pout.

“It's time for us to be getting home anyway,” Lindsay said.

“I don't want to—”

Lindsay held her index finger to her lips until the child stopped. “Remember, I told you we could get ice cream on the way home, but only if you could leave without complaining.”

“Chocolate-and-vanilla twist? And not a baby cone.”

The side of Lindsay's mouth lifted. “A small.”

“Small is big.”

The idea of a frozen treat winning over the tantrum, Emma stood up from the towel and started gathering her sand toys. As the child moved over to her deserted castle to collect her shovel and pail, Joe leaned in toward Lindsay.

“What were you saying about bribes?” He couldn't help grinning as he said it.

“They work sometimes. Anyway, this is an incentive program.”

He nodded, but he couldn't keep a straight face. “You see? I did teach you something about kids.”

“Now you've created a monster,” Lindsay said with a frown as she struggled to stand up and then started shaking out the beach towels. “Two, if you're including Emma in that. Before long, I'll be bribing her with a sports car just to keep a C average on her report card.”

“If you're handing out sports cars, would you mind adopting me? I'll just go back to college. I'm sure I can find something else to study.”

“I'll get right on it.”

Emma raced back to them, her toys already in the mesh bag with sand trailing out through the holes. “Can Trooper Joe come with us to get ice cream?”

Lindsay glanced sidelong at him, as if waiting for his
nod. When he gave it, Lindsay turned back to Emma. “If he wants to come, fine.”

“Want to get ice cream, Trooper Joe?” Emma asked.

“I like ice cream.”

Why was it that he suddenly wished Lindsay had invited him herself? It was just ice cream. But what he needed to admit to himself, even if he wouldn't confess it to anyone else under direct questioning, was that he wasn't ready to leave Lindsay Collins and her young niece just yet.

He didn't know how he'd gotten to this place. He'd been a mess at work, even after Brett had spoken to him, and he'd come here wound so tightly that even Lindsay had pointed it out. Yet, after a few minutes here with the two of them, all of his stress had melted away. That truth alone should have set off more bells in his mind than a four-alarm fire, but he didn't even have the good sense to be on high alert.

Didn't he realize that at any time she might start asking questions again? Spending time with them, it was easy for him to blank out the memory of the accident that had brought them together in the first place, but it was wrong to keep the truth from Lindsay.

She had every right to know the whole truth, but he still didn't know how to tell her that he'd not only played God by choosing which sister would live, but that he'd refused to listen when she'd begged him to save her sister instead. He had to tell her; that was all there was to it. He just had to find the right time.

As Lindsay finished with the towels, Joe grabbed the blanket, shook it out and folded it over his arm.

“Here, let me get those.” He reached for the pile of towels stacked on the sand, and then he took the ones she was already carrying from her arms.