Romancing the Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #5)(31)
Author: Jessica Clare

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well,” Violet said, and put her hands on her hips. “Nothing to do but wander around and hope I hit something with my feet, then.”

“Be my guest,” Jonathan said. “I’ll just be here on shore with coffee and muffins.”

“Beast,” she teased, feeling a bit more at ease. It didn’t sound like he was holding her little striptease against her, which was good. “If you break out those muffins, watch for the ducks. They’ll chew off your arm to get to that bread, I suspect.” Even now, they were hovering near him, ignoring her.

“I’ll save my muffins for you,” he said, and the amusement was back in his voice. Good. She was relieved to hear that.

Violet trudged along the muddy bottom of the river, moving slowly and feeling around with her toes. The water was cold but shallow, and she took her time, not wanting to step over something and miss it. It got deeper as she moved farther in, and she ended up hitching up her skirt a bit more. There was a little graveyard and a church across the river, and she wondered if she was starting from the wrong side. Did that have meaning? Was Shelley buried there and they were looking in the wrong place? Now that they were here, the clue seemed awfully vague.

“How’s it going?” Jonathan called after a time.

“Nothing,” she said, turning around and moving a step or two over, then heading back the way she came, toward the bank. She looked over at him with his coffee, sipping it as he watched her. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have been so quick to volunteer. That coffee looks rather good.”

“It is rather good,” Jonathan said. “But I promise not to relish it an unfair amount.”

She shook her head, grinning. “Do you suppose there’s a box of some kind buried here? What if it got picked up by the current and went downstream? What do we do then?”

“Don’t know,” Jonathan said. “It might take us a few weeks to find it.”

“That’s a rather dismal thought.”

“Is it?” He didn’t sound as if he disliked the idea at all.

And that made her wonder. She kept her wondering to herself, though, and continued to trudge, up and down the riverbank. She tried thirteen steps out from the shore. She tried thirteen steps out from the base of the bridge. She tried small steps. She tried large steps. But all that was under her feet was silty river mud. She went back and forth over every inch of riverbank that the bridge covered, and when that all turned up nothing, she looked over at Jonathan again.

“I’m not getting anything,” she told him. “There’s nothing but mud. Should we try the opposite bank?”

“We can,” he said, getting to his feet. “Want to go across the bridge?”

“Actually I’m pretty sure it’s shallow enough,” she began, heading toward the middle of the river, “for me to wade through—”

Her foot didn’t connect, and her entire body went under the water.

For a brief, frightening second, Violet’s world was nothing but water. She heard a male voice shout her name, the sound murky. Then her feet touched the ground, just a bit of a step down, and she pushed back up, gasping for breath.

Her head broke the surface and she pushed streaming water out of her eyes, spluttering in outrage.

A moment later, two strong hands grabbed her and she was hauled against a large male form. “Violet! Are you all right?”

She blinked river water out of her eyes, surprised to see Jonathan right in front of her. He’d waded right in to rescue her, his jeans were wet up to the knee, and she was pretty sure he was still wearing his shoes. “I . . . I think I’m okay,” she said weakly. “Just surprised.”

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me,” he said in a ragged voice, his fingers tight on her arms. It was like he was trying to squeeze some of the water out of her sweater just by touching her. The mental image of that made her giggle. “It’s not funny,” Jonathan snapped.

“It’s a little funny,” she admitted, still giggling. She had to laugh at herself. It was funny. “Watch that next step. It’s a doozy.”

He snorted. “What did you trip on? Is it a lockbox?”

“It’s nothing. I just stepped into a hole, that’s all. Lost my footing and went under.” Even now, she felt silly. The river wasn’t all that deep, and she’d somehow managed to dunk herself. Great going, Violet. “No lockbox, unfortunately.”

“Well, whatever it was, we’re done looking for now.” He hauled her against him, his arms going protectively around her as he began to pull her to the shore.

Though he was being a bit heavy-handed with things, Violet wasn’t complaining. Her clothes were clinging to her body and now the morning had gone from slightly chilly to wickedly cold, and the only thing warm was Jonathan’s big body pressed against hers. She ignored the wet adhesion of the fabric to her br**sts. “I can walk on my own.”

“Clearly, you can’t.”

“Jonathan—”

“Violet, don’t make me carry you back to the shore,” he warned.

“Oh, please. You couldn’t if you tried.”

He looked down at her and gave her a challenging look. “Is that a dare?”

“Just calling it like I see it.”

Without a word, Jonathan leaned over and grabbed her behind her knees, hauling her into his arms. She gave a squeal of fright and clung to his shoulders as he pushed through the water. “We’re going to fall!”

“I’m not going to drop you,” he told her. “Stop wiggling.”

She was streaming water everywhere, and she was terrified Jonathan would drop her. She wasn’t a dainty teenager any longer. She was solid now, with an adult’s curves and an adult’s addiction to Ben & Jerry’s. But he wasn’t putting her down, so she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped for the best.

A few moments later, she felt his steps change, and when she looked down, Jonathan had made it onto the bank. Water was sluicing down from his jeans and his sneakers squished with every step. He paused and gently set her feet down on the pavement, giving her a smug look. “You’re not heavy, you know.”

She just rolled her eyes. “You’re not Prince Charming, you know.”

The teasing look faded from his face, replaced by an expression of pain, quickly masked with politeness.