Falling for Water

By Arlene Webb

Water.

What Cassi thought was a simple obsession with clean water has taken over her life. When she orders a distiller online to replace the one smashed by her abusive boyfriend, she gets more than she bargained for.

Enter a man with a badge, hunting a terrorist, and Cassi is his number one suspect. Not only is she struggling with her fixation on pure H2O, she has to prove she’s not the one he’s looking for—only she kind of wishes she was. Before she knows it, Cassi is in over her head.

Justice.

Ray had everything, until a random crime ends badly and he’s left to hold to his grief or make changes in his life. Charming his way into people’s personal business—slapping on the cuffs as needed—gives him reason to get up in the morning. When he falls headfirst into another chance at love, he must take the plunge without hesitation or risk losing more than his heart.

As the pair join hands, sparks fly as well as bullets, leaving Cassi and Ray to wonder if the universe could right itself. Will the past reach out and drown their chance for happiness?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Dec 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781613334492

Book preview

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Falling for Water

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 by Arlene Webb

ISBN: 978-1-61333-449-2

Cover art by Tibbs Design

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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www.decadentpublishing.com

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Also by Arlene Webb

Arrow to the Heart

Last Request

Taking Down Mistletoe

Harey

Falling for Water

A Prepper Romance

By

Arlene Webb

~DEDICATION~

I am forever grateful to D.L. Jackson, Barbara Elsborg, Heather Bennett, and all the staff at DP for bringing this story to life.

Chapter One

Rain drizzled, misting his hair, and Ray Harris deliberately stepped into the small puddle gathered on the concrete slab. Droplets sprayed upward, hitting the cuff of his pant leg, making him smile as he leapt higher, taking two steps this time, and splashed down again.

By the time he made it to the top of the stairs of the main entrance to the college campus library, he’d pretty much managed to soak his black boots.

7:15 p.m. and the first floor was clustered with students at computer terminals, chatting quietly at filled tables and ignoring the guy a decade older cruising the place.

When he reached the third floor, with fewer than a handful of students seated about, his stomach muscles tightened. Oh, yeah. He spotted his probable target seated at two o’clock.

Wow. No way did Cassi Smith do justice to her Internet pictures, at least as far as her body was concerned. Soft brown hair tumbled about her shoulders and lowered head, obscuring her face. In the far corner table by herself, she perched on the chair and typed with intent on a laptop.

She didn’t look up, but the tightening in her posture showed her acknowledgement that a wolf had entered the isolated area.

He took position at the table to her left and pulled out his cell phone. He pretended to pay attention to it, not to those crossed, slender ankles, long, jean-clad legs, and the way she chewed her lower lip as she concentrated. The moment her chin lifted and she reached for the small Thermos beside her laptop, his fists clenched as he got a good look. The dark bruise beneath her eye, the still-red swelling to her cheek—she’d been smacked more than once within the past week.

Screw this. I’m making contact, and not with my fists. God knew what the loose gray hoodie hid, other than proud, full breasts, if she’d stop huddling into herself and show them. For better or worse, the sooner he interfered in her life, perhaps he could guarantee that worst would no longer involve being used as a punching bag.

He pushed to his feet and from his peripheral vision, watched her cringe as he dropped his cell phone so it landed conveniently by her feet.

Oh, sorry. Clumsy…lucky me. He reached for the phone she handed him. Thanks, beautiful. My name—

I don’t care.

He shook his head. That won’t do. Pick another.

Another what?

Name. He grinned, full-charm mode.

I’m not interested.

Fine. Being lazy, I’ll call you NI for short. Nah, forget that. You’re more of a VI, also known as Very Interesting. He bowed. And, so you feel safer, I’ll go along with the need for aliases and ask you call me Hopeful.

She snorted. And what would you hope for?

If I sit with you for, say, fifteen, without pestering so you can wrap whatever you’re doing, will you tell me all about yourself from the moment you were born until now, over a cup of coffee?

I don’t drink coffee.

He snagged the chair across from her and sat. One glance at her blackened eye, and he narrowed his gaze. Okay. Then just tell me about your life starting a couple days ago.

Fifteen minutes?

Awesome. I can’t wait. He set his cell phone down, angled so she couldn’t see the screen. He returned to working on an incident report he was told he’d be demoted to traffic cop if he didn’t turn in as of last week, and watched the time click away. He also sneaked peeks at beautiful eyes the color of overturned, rich sod, for fourteen comfortable minutes, until she slapped her laptop closed, grabbed it and her Thermos, bounced to her feet and ran.

Bye! See you tomorrow around the same time, okay? he called after her.

No halt, no answer. He slumped and became aware of more than a seriously sexy backside racing down the stairs.

He shrugged at the couple of dirty looks shot his way. Bite me. At least in college libraries there wasn’t an elderly marm with glasses perched on her nose, coming round to wag her finger.

The next night there weren’t any puddles to play in, and things got even worse, as no pretty lady sauntered in to join him at the table she’d been at yesterday on the third floor.

One hour later, he still sat alone and his cell buzzed. The incoming text from his boss wanted him downtown. Code five, which meant pronto, but he knew he’d only be verbally abused if he dawdled.

Fifteen minutes dwindled by. He pushed to his feet and came to an abrupt halt.

Cassi Jones had reached the top of the stairs.

He back-stepped and sat his ass down fast.

Hi, VI. He kicked out the chair across from him.

Oh. I thought you’d be gone by now.

Thankfully, no fresh bruising marred her face. He also noted the flush. Despite what she said, she’d hoped he’d be here? He smiled. Can you sit for a while?

She glanced, nervously around the deserted floor. I-I have a lot to do. No…er…no.

Okay. An hour late, and yes, not being a stalker, I can take rejection. He shuffled to his feet, and gestured to the chair. I’ll leave your spot all warm for you. You know, I heard that Club 45 on Fifth doesn’t ever serve coffee. Tomorrow, Friday night, it’ll be crowded and the best place to meet hopeful men where a stampede will come to your aid if you’re feeling pressured. Bye, VI.

He walked for the exit stairs, his shoulder blades prickly, as if it was her turn to stare after his ass.

***

Cassi crossed Fifth Street, avoiding the puddles from yet another day of rain.

She smiled at the guy holding the door open for her, circled around the chatting stand-abouts, and bee-lined for an empty stool.

She caught herself before she leaned her arm onto the sticky bar. The cute guy from the library had been right. This place was hopping and the harried bartender barely glanced her way. While she could control the longing to drown her sorrows, the awareness it was better to soak up alcohol by swallowing instead of absorbing through the skin was another story.

Well, enough was enough. Change was a fact of life and something she very much needed to embrace. She’d remain drowning, unable to breathe under a tsunami of self-hatred, if she didn’t become proactive, get in the race, all that. She rose off the seat onto her knees, and reached over the counter for the damp white cloth on the edge of the sink. Dammit. The bar towel was grosser than the countertop. Ahh, there was a fresh one. If she bent down a tad more, she could grab it and run it under the tap.

Yippee, I won the gold. Now that she had the clean, damp cloth in hand, her concentration could shift to scrubbing instead of struggling not to fall into the sink. Unfortunately, once the hallelujah chorus for mission accomplished quieted in her mind, whistles and snickers behind her rose out from the din of rowdy drunks.

Cassi connected her rear to the bar stool fast and cringed. Ducking her head, hair falling forward, she glanced over her shoulder.

Was the group of bozos at the table across the aisle talking about her butt?

Oh God. By the fact that four guys stared at her with wide grins, and the rooster in front pushed to his feet, she’d think yes.

And oh God,