Navy Woman

“A compliment, Commander?”

She sensed his smile. It made absolutely no sense the way her heart reacted knowing that. It was as if she’d been blessed by an unexpected second wind. By some odd twist of fate, she’d actually managed to amuse ol’ stone face.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No chance of that,” she quipped, wondering if she’d heard a hint of amusement in his tone. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice it’s raining.” Although she attempted to make light of it, she was drenched to the bone.

“Is that what all this wet stuff is?”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said between breaths, “I’ll stop running if you do. We’ll call it a draw.”

“Agreed.” Royce slowed his pace to a trot, and Catherine reluctantly did the same, not sure even now that she could trust him. After several steps, she stopped and leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees while she struggled to capture her breath.

The rain continued to pound down with a vengeance. While they were jogging, it was a simple enough matter to ignore the downpour. Now it wasn’t so easy. Her hair, which had once been neatly secured at her nape, was plastered to her cheeks like wet strings. A small river of rainwater was navigating over her neck and down to the small of her back.

“Go home, Fredrickson,” Royce said after a moment.

Catherine bristled. “Is that an order?”

He paused. “No.”

He started to walk away from her, then unexpectedly turned back. “Before you leave, satisfy a curiosity. You requested a transfer from San Diego several years back. Why?”

Catherine knew it was all part of her personnel file, but his question caught her off guard. Her response was quick, light-hearted, almost flippant. “Who wouldn’t want to live in Hawaii?”

“That wasn’t the reason you wanted out of San Diego.” His voice was deceptively unconcerned, as if he knew far more than he was letting on. “You wanted that transfer and you didn’t care if you got Hawaii or Iran.”

“There were personal reasons,” she admitted reluctantly. Catherine couldn’t understand why he’d chosen to ask her these questions now. The man continued to baffle her.

“Tell me the truth.”

Catherine tensed, disliking his casual tone. Nor was she pleased with the way he implied she was lying. By mentally counting to ten, she willed herself to remain calm.

“That is the truth. I’ve always wanted to live in Hawaii.”

“My guess is that a man was involved.”

Catherine’s stomach knotted. She didn’t often think about Aaron. For the past three years she’d done a superb job of pretending they’d never met. Leave it to Royce Nyland to harass her battered heart with memories of her former fiancé. All right, that was a bit strong. He wasn’t exactly tormenting her, and her heart wasn’t all that scarred.

“What makes you think my request had anything to do with a man?” she asked, making light of his comment. She increased her strides, wanting to get this interrogation over with as soon as possible.

“Because it generally is.”

That wasn’t the least bit true, but Catherine wasn’t going to stand in the rain and argue with him.

“A change of scenery appealed to me at the time.” She needed to get away from San Diego for fear she’d run into Aaron. She wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing him again. At least that was what she told herself. Over time, she wasn’t nearly convinced that was true. She’d fallen head over heels in love with him much too quickly. Then she’d flown out as a defense attorney for trials aboard the Nimitz and returned several weeks later to learn Aaron hadn’t exactly been holding his breath waiting for her.

The first minute she was back, Catherine had rushed to her fiancé’s apartment to find him lying on the sofa with the young blond divorcée who lived next door. Aaron had scrambled off the davenport in a rush to explain while the red-faced divorcée hastily rebuttoned her blouse. It had all been innocent fun, Aaron claimed. Hell, how was he supposed to amuse himself while she was away for weeks on end? He advised Catherine to be a sport since he and the blonde had only indulged in a little entertainment.

In thinking back over the episode, Catherine was surprised by how completely emotionless she’d remained. The solitary diamond on her finger suddenly weighted down her hand. That much she remembered with ease. She’d stared down on it and then wordlessly slipped it from her finger and returned it to Aaron. For several moments he was paralyzed with shock. Then he’d followed her to the parking lot and pleaded with her to be more understanding. If it offended her so much, he’d make sure it didn’t happen again. There was no need to overreact this way. None whatsoever.

In retrospect Catherine had come to realize that her pride had taken far more of a beating than her heart. She was almost relieved to have Aaron out of her life, only she hadn’t realized that until much later.

“Catherine?”

Royce’s deep, masculine voice pulled her back into the present. To the best of her knowledge it was the first time he’d ever used her name. Until then it had been Lieutenant Commander or Fredrickson, but never Catherine. This, too, had a curious effect upon her heart.

“There was a man involved,” she announced stiffly, “but that was several years ago now. You needn’t worry my former engagement will affect my work for you. Now or in the future.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Good night, Commander.” They crested the hill where Catherine’s bright red GEO Storm was waiting for her.

“Good night.”

Trotting, Catherine was halfway down the hill when Royce stopped her.

“Catherine.”

“Yes?” She turned around to face him, brushing the wet curls from her cheeks.

“Are you living with someone?”

The question took her by complete surprise. “That’s none of your business.”

Royce said nothing. He stood several feet away from her, his harsh features illuminated by the streetlight. His face was tight, as if he were holding himself in check. “Trust me, I have no interest in your love life. You can live with whomever you please or be engaged to five men at once for all I care. What does concern me is the legal department. The work is demanding and the schedule grueling. I like to know where I stand with my staff and try to avoid causing unnecessary complications in their lives.”

Catherine didn’t respond right away. “Since you find it so important, then I might as well confess I am shacked up with someone.” From the distance Catherine couldn’t tell if she got a reaction or not. Most likely he was telling the truth and he didn’t care one way or the other. “Sambo.”

“Sambo?” he repeated frowning.

“You heard me correctly, Commander. I live with a cat named Sambo.” With that, she gave a cheerful laugh and was gone.

Royce found himself smiling in the dark, the rain pelting down around him in a great torrent. His amusement, however, vanished quickly. He didn’t like Catherine Fredrickson.

“No,” he muttered aloud, retracting the thought. That wasn’t true. He did like her. There were any number of admirable traits about the Lieutenant Commander he couldn’t help but respect.

She was dedicated and hardworking, and she’d fit in easily with the rest of his staff. She wasn’t a complainer, either. Before he’d left the office that evening, he’d checked over the duty roster and was surprised to note that he’d assigned Catherine duty every Friday for four weeks running. He hadn’t realized his mistake. Anyone else would have pointed it out to him, and rightly so. Her name had drifted easily into his mind when he learned Lieutenant Osborne was going on sea trials and a substitute coordinator was needed to take over the physical fitness program.

He knew Catherine wasn’t overly pleased by the assignment. Her eyes had flashed briefly with rebellion, but that was the only outward sign she’d given that she wasn’t thrilled with the added responsibility.

That woman had eyes that would mark a man’s soul. Normally Royce didn’t pay much attention to that sort of thing, but her eyes had garnered his attention from the first moment they’d met. They shimmered, and seemed to trap pieces of light. But more than that, they seemed warm and caring.

He liked her voice, too. It was rich and sweetly feminine. Female. Hell, Royce mused, he was beginning to sound like a romantic poet.

Now that thought was enough to produce a hearty laugh. There wasn’t a romantic bone left in his body. His wife had squeezed every ounce of love and joy out of him long before she went to the grave.

Royce didn’t want to think about Sandy. Abruptly he turned and walked toward his car, his strides hurried, as if he could outdistance the memory of his dead wife.