putting him below the tide line. With the tide coming in, heâd be inundated before long. So why didnât he move? Didnât he know he was about to get wet? He was a cop, she thought. Maybe he didnât know anything about the ocean.
She glanced up at the house. Where was Darrow? Could anyone see her?
A wave rolled in, swirling onto Cam Yeagerâs rocks. Still he didnât move. From his awkward position, Gabriella decided he must have caught a foot between a couple of rocks and was trying to extricate himself.
She sat gingerly on the edge of the rock, mindful of her expensive party dress, and slid herself down the three feet to the next rock. Her ankle twisted in her heels. She crept down another couple of smaller boulders, moving closer.
The wind died down. âAre you stuck?â she called.
He glared up at her. âNo, I decided to take a spring swim. You going to get down here and give me a hand before I drown?â
âSeeing how youâre being so nice about it, sure.â
But she kicked off her shoes and made the drop to the next boulder, then leapt a three-foot chasm between two more. In another few seconds, she dropped below the tide line, barnacles cutting into her feet. She felt the cold spray of water, smelled the dead-fish smells of low tide.
Cam Yeager was sitting in two inches of frigid seawater, his right ankle wedged between two jutting rocks. With the oncoming tide, the water would get deeper, fast.
âYouâre in a fine pickle,â she said.
In spite of his predicament, he gave her a dry look. âSomehow I didnât expect much sympathy from you.â
âHoist by your own petard, Iâd say. Teach you to trespass. Your ankleâs not broken?â
He shook his head. âI donât think so.â
His voice was deep, raspy, his jaw tight. He had to be freezing. Water oozed over Gabriellaâs feet, so cold it hurt. She bit back a yell.
Cam noticed. âPleasant, isnât it?â
âNothing like a spring dip in the North Atlantic. How did you end up in such a mess? I saw Pete Darrow on the rocks. Why didnât you call to him for help?â
âGabriellaââhis gaze leveled on her, his lips turning blueââwe can chitchat later. Right now Iâd like just to get the hell out of this water.â
She nodded, slogging through the water for a better look at his trapped ankle. A loose rock lay atop his shin, complicating matters.
âIt came down on top of me when I fell,â Cam said. âI canât get a good grip on it from this position. I think you can manage it. Itâs not that heavy or itâd have broken my shin.â
She glanced at him. âNot to worry. I lift weights.â
He gave her a wry look, the sexiness of his grin catching her off guard. âThen have at it, sweetheart.â
A wave hit, swirling and seeping as it washed up over his legs, up to Gabriellaâs knees. She shuddered in pain and shock. Camâs jaw was clenched, his face going pale. His chest was the only part not soaked in icy saltwater. Gabriella doubted he could stand much more before slipping into hypothermia.
Feeling a growing sense of urgency, she squatted down the way her weightlifting instructor had taught her, grabbing hold of the loose rock. She made sure she had a firm grip: She didnât want to end up dropping it back down on his shin and breaking bones.
Lifting on the exhale, she managed to half heave, half roll the rock into the water. Her own legs were numb from the knees down, and she could feel her body temperature dropping. After a lifetime with Tony Scagliotti, she well knew the signs of hypothermia. Much more and sheâd be risking her own safety.
Before she could catch her breath, a huge swell rolled up onto the rocks, up to her thighs and over Cam Yeagerâs head. She fought to maintain her balance against the force of the water as the shock of the cold wiped out all