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  Probably, she’d thought just as the warm spray of water had burst from the showerhead to pepper her face. But now, so many years after she’d been through the ringer and back, when he’d read her book and started to teach her about intimacy via the words she’d written, Portia had been ready to learn. She’d been so ready that she’d sought him out at the bar and pushed aside any misgivings or inhibitions to allow the unimaginable to happen.

  Emotions had run rampant through her all yesterday as she’d tried to sort through how she was supposed to feel about their interlude at the bar. And then when she’d seen him and heard his words, she’d known how she should feel. Just as he did. Like this was just a learning experience for her. Just as the awful break-up with Bobby and her retribution against him had been.

  A bowl of fruit and two cups of coffee later, Portia had outlined half the book she wanted to write next. She’d made notes on the research she would need to do, some of which she’d already done but needed to delve a little further, but mainly she relied heavily on things she’d learned via her minor in psychology. Emotion springs from a complex state of feeling resulting in physical and psychological changes that influence thought and behavior. There were three main categories of motivation: physiological, neurological and cognitive. Right now, Portia was hung up on the physiological theory, which suggested that responses within the body were responsible for emotions. If that were one hundred percent true, then with each orgasm Ethan had brought her that night on the phone and at the bar, she should be well on her way to being in love with him. Or at the very least in lust.

  Considering the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about how good the thickness of his cock felt deep inside her and how she really wanted to experience that feeling again, she would venture to say that theory was correct.

  She’d told Ethan that she was game for good sex and that wasn’t a lie. Had hearing him say he didn’t have a thing for her hurt her feelings in any way? Of course it had. But Portia was no longer that girl who believed in fairy tale love and Ethan being her prince charming in a football uniform. She was an adult who had seen more and now knew more than she had back then. Her time in Providence was temporary and so was her time with Ethan. She was fine with that.

  What Portia wasn’t fine with, was the call she’d received from Rod at just about three o’clock in the afternoon.

  “I can come by and board up the windows if you like,” Rod said.

  Portia had stopped writing when the phone rang and climbed off the bed to look out her window. The sky was a dusky gray color with clouds that looked as if they were going to explode at any moment. Tree branches bent with the wind and she could hear the screech of the swing on the porch moving back and forth.

  “Storm’s expected to make landfall sometime in the middle of the night. But things are going to get pretty dicey before then. I know you’re there by yourself, so I was thinking of coming over just to help you batten down. Or maybe you’d rather head over to Clarice’s motel for the night. At least you won’t be alone there,” Rod continued.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” Portia told him. “And you don’t have to come over. I’ll take care of the house.”

  He’d asked about coming over again before inviting her to come over to his parents’ house where he planned to ride out the storm with them, all of which Portia declined. She did turn on the television after disconnecting the call. She’d been so wrapped up in her research and outlining all day that she hadn’t paid attention to anything that was going on around her.

  She sat on the edge of the bed switching channels each time a commercial came on interrupting the news broadcasts. Hurricane Sylvie had formed near the Cape Verde Islands two weeks ago. In that time, the storm had steadily strengthened, reaching its peak as a Category 5 hurricane. The storm had reached the Outer Banks of North Carolina late last night and had now weakened to a Category 2 storm that was scheduled to hit the Virginia and D.C. area in a matter of hours.

  Portia recalled the last time she’d experienced a hurricane. It had been a few years before she’d graduated from high school, when Hurricane Isabel had ravaged the East Coast. She immediately went downstairs into the kitchen to make sure she still had the bottles of water she’d purchased the day before yesterday. Her next trek was to find a flashlight and batteries, but she was stopped by her cell phone ringing again. She’d stuffed it into the pocket of the sweatpants she wore and now reached for it without looking at the screen.

  “Storm’s coming,” Sunny said the moment she answered. “I heard on the radio that it’s heading right for Providence.”

  “I know. I’m looking for flashlights now.”

  “In the kitchen drawer by the refrigerator,” she said.

  Portia sighed because she’d packed that box yesterday. “Okay. I’ll get it.”

  “Stay away from the windows. The middle bedroom upstairs is the best place to get comfortable. There’s a sleeping bag and blankets in one of the closets up there. Take your flashlights, water and snacks on up there and settle in for the night. The house is sturdy. It’s been standing for almost two hundred years, it’ll keep standing.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Portia said as she continued moving throughout the house collecting things.

  She’d grabbed her purse and the phone charger she’d left beside it this morning. There were only six of the waters left, so she dropped them into a plastic bag and carried that with her.

  “Turn off all the lights and unplug everything. The power will probably go out, but you don’t want any power surges when it clicks back on. You can keep your phone charged in the middle room until the power does go out,” Sunny continued.

  “Right,” Portia said with a nod. She was just about to head upstairs again when there was a knock at the door.

  She frowned because she figured it was Rod who hadn’t listened to her tell him many times that he didn’t need to come over.

  “Are there batteries in the flashlight?” she asked Sunny. “Or someplace else in the house?”

  “Should be in the same drawer,” Sunny said. “But the flashlight is a sturdy one, it should go all night without having to be recharged. I sure am glad you’re there in the house seeing this project through. Not tonight though, this storm seems like it’s gonna be a nasty one.”

  Portia opened the door at that moment and was startled to see Ethan standing there. It must’ve started to rain because his shirt had huge wet spots on it, but that was the only thing off about his appearance. Otherwise he appeared tall, muscled and scrumptious as he stood there looking like something else that could possibly go all night. But that wasn’t all, not tonight. Seeing Ethan standing on her porch when a storm was brewing outside made her feel something else. Important, cared-for, cherished. Things she’d never expected to feel from a man again.

  Yesterday had been awful.

  Ethan was of a mind to make today better. He’d finished his shift at the bar about an hour ago and stopped at the store before getting to his final destination. Sunnydale. Even if he hadn’t already decided he needed to see Portia today, Camy coming into the bar stating quite succinctly that he needed to get his head out of his ass would possibly have prompted him to do so.

  “You’re being a jerk. She still likes you a lot,” Camy had said.

  “I was with her all evening,” he’d replied. And it was true.

  From the time that Portia had surprised him by standing right behind him while he talked about not having a thing for her, until somewhere around eleven-thirty when he’d followed her home, they hadn’t been more than a few feet apart. She’d eaten and he had too. She’d laughed at Lance’s silly jokes and arm wrestled with Rock, even though they all knew who was going to win. When Camy sang and Lance played the guitar, Portia had crossed her legs and leaned forward to rest an elbow on her thigh. She’d swayed to the music and Ethan had watched her feel every lyric of the ballad. So he’d had no idea how that equated to being a jerk.

  “Why aren’t you wit
h her now? You know the hurricane is coming. She’s all by herself in that big old house. What if she doesn’t have enough water or something? What if the windows get blown in, or there’s flooding?”

  “Stop!” Ethan had said when it seemed like Camy’s rambling would last forever. “You’re in an old house by yourself too.”

  “Del and Lance are both coming over as soon as they close down the bar to board up the windows and do whatever else needs to be done before things get bad.”

  He was about to say something else, but she held up a hand to stop him.

  “Yes. I could’ve done all those things myself. I don’t need a man around to take care of things. And I’m sure Portia doesn’t either. But, if there is a man who professes to care about a woman, they should be there to do those things. Chivalry’s not dead.” Camy finished with an arched brow that dared Ethan to say anything to the contrary.

  “I’ve already got plans,” Ethan told her at the risk of receiving more scathing looks. “And besides, she’s still leaving soon, so I’m sure she’s spending the day packing.”

  “I don’t think she wants to leave,” Camy continued.

  Ethan moved away from the bar to return a stack of menus to the hostess stand.

  “You should’ve seen the look in her eyes when she was going through the stuff in those boxes yesterday. I found her sitting on the front lawn, just like she used to do when she was younger. That’s why I stopped and talked to her, because it sucks that nobody paid any attention to her before.”

  Her words weren’t new to Ethan. He’d thought them a time or two during the time that Portia had been back in town.

  “We were kids, Camy. We didn’t realize what we were doing. And if we did, we were too young and dumb to stop. Portia understands that now.”

  “Does she?” Camy had asked.

  Ethan was saved by Del who came along to tell them that the mayor had announced that everyone close and head home because the storm was getting closer. True to the plan he’d already concocted while working today, Ethan had left the bar and made a quick run to the market and hardware store that was running out of supplies.

  Now he was standing on her front porch, mildly wet, holding bags in his arms and staring at perhaps the most attractive woman he’d ever seen.

  She was clearly surprised to see him, as evidenced by the way her mouth instantly gaped open when she opened the door. Now, she was shaking her head and telling whoever was on the phone that she had to go and that yes, she would be okay during the storm, before disconnecting the call.

  “Hi,” Ethan said because he wasn’t totally sure she knew what to say to his impromptu visit. “I picked up some things I thought you might be able to use.”

  He went with his gut and immediately began walking as if he intended to enter the house. Then something inside halted him and he stopped just a breath away from her. He looked down to see the question in her eyes as she tilted her head upward to meet his gaze. Once again, she appeared vulnerable in baggy gray sweatpants, sock covered feet and a t-shirt that hung off one shoulder. She wore no make-up and innocence in her gaze was enough to make him feel guilty about something, everything or hell, anything.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, praying that she wouldn’t say no.

  She nodded and he almost sighed with relief.

  He heard the door close behind him and looked over his shoulder to ask, “Which way to the kitchen?”

  “Through the living room and the parlor,” she said. “What did you buy?”

  “Provisions,” he answered. “We’re in for a rough night. I’m going to put this stuff down and then I’ll walk around and check the windows.”

  “They’re new,” she said just as he put the bags on the floor in the kitchen because there was no furniture.

  “All the more reason to check on them. The wind’s picking up already. Rod said there are some pieces of wood down in the basement. I’ll just head down there to see what I can use.”

  “You called Rod and talked to him about my—this—house?” He didn’t miss the surprise in her voice and it made him feel like an ass that she didn’t think enough of him to know he’d look out for her.

  He turned to her then, touching a finger to her chin. “I did. And after I get the windows situated, we can fix some dinner while we still have power and then buckle in for the night.”

  “You’re staying here?”

  “I am if that’s alright with you.” He desperately wanted her to say it was okay, but if she didn’t, if she asked him to leave, he would. He’d hate and worry every second he wasn’t with her during this storm, but he wouldn’t push her in any way. After all she’d been through in this town, he wasn’t going to make any more bad memories for her.

  She stared at him for what seemed like endless seconds, contemplating no doubt. Probably asking if she could trust him? If this wasn’t another cruel joke, or if it were a result of some type of guilt trip? Portia always seemed to have questions and there was a time when Ethan thought he’d had all the answers. Tonight, he was rethinking everything he thought he’d known about his feelings for Portia and why he’d chosen to stay away from her.

  “That’s fine with me,” she answered finally.

  His smile probably gave away the relief he felt, but he didn’t mind. As long as he was here with her.

  11

  “‘The Act of Intimacy. At first it is an act because there has not been a chance for the new couple to get to know each other well enough for it to become a natural progression of the relationship. Therefore “acts” must occur to bring them closer to the intimacy they desire.’“

  “You memorized my book.”

  It wasn’t a question, just a quiet statement as they sat on top of a sleeping bag on the floor of the middle room. Outside the wind had begun to howl, rattling against the windows as the storm grew closer.

  “Not every word. Just specific parts,” Ethan replied.

  “Why?”

  “Truth: it makes me feel closer to you,” he said and then waited.

  An hour ago, he’d fixed them grilled cheese sandwiches. Actually, he’d burned the sandwiches and Portia cooked them new ones while Ethan opened cans of tomato soup and warmed it on the stove. After eating, they cleaned the dishes and walked through the house unplugging everything, per Sunny’s instructions. As if that act alone summoned the storm to become more powerful, the electricity went out as they’d walked up the stairs. She’d switched on the flashlight she’d stuffed in her pocket, but Ethan had another idea. He used the flashlight on his phone to head back downstairs and grabbed the candles he’d purchased from the store.

  Now, those candles were lit all around the room so that they were sitting in the midst of a golden glow.

  “Truth,” she said abruptly. “I don’t know how hearing you say that is supposed to make me feel.”

  “I don’t know either, Portia. I just know that I’ve read your book three times already. I haven’t read like that since college.” He chuckled and she recalled how much she’d loved that sound.

  “I always loved reading.” That was probably a better thing to admit. She was sitting with her back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle, hands in her lap. “I guess that’s why writing was such an easy transition for me.”

  “And writing about intimacy, how did you get into that?” he asked the question that had been on his mind for days now. The book wasn’t Portia’s first foray into the sex industry. Her company Pleasure Inc. was behind an entire course of instructive videos that had not only made her rich, but also immensely popular within the industry.

  She was quiet for long moments and Ethan wondered if he’d asked the wrong question. They were sitting so close that the sides of their bodies touched. His legs obviously stretched longer than hers on the sleeping bag. The candles around them burning brightly.

  “It just happened,” she eventually responded.

  “I get it. Things just happen all the time.” It was a lesson he’d
learned on a couple of occasions. “Did you ever think you’d end up back here in Providence?”

  She’d folded her hands in her lap and turned to look over at him. “No. I never wanted to come back.”

  “Because of how badly you were treated.” He hated that he’d indirectly been a part of that. If he could get a do-over he’d take it, if only to make things better for her.

  “Because of a lot of things. Not just your friends or other kids in school. I always felt out of place here.”

  “And when you went away to college you felt better? Because I thought I’d feel better once I was out of Providence too and for a while I did, but deep down inside I think I always knew I’d come back.” That was the first time he’d ever admitted that to anyone.

  She reached up to tuck thick curls back behind her ear. They sprung loose seconds after her hand moved and he grinned at the instant look of frustration that crossed her face. “You’ve always had a place here, Ethan. Whether it was on the high school football team or now, owning a bar. You and Del and the others, were an integral part of this town.”

  “Why? Because we were always accused of trying to tear it down?” That question may have been a bit harsh considering Portia wasn’t one of the ones who’d accused him and his friends of doing everything except the right thing during their teenage years.