The Right Touch

Cal walked quietly across the huge stone patio that was embraced by carefully spaced, potted tropical plants towering above them. He missed little as he approached Dev: she had kicked her heels off, revealing shapely feet. The red-and-white cocktail dress outlined the fact that Dev Hunter was indeed tall and in good physical shape. Cal’s gaze roved appreciatively from her bare shoulders and arms down her long, delicately curved back to her slender hips. He was irritated with himself for having drowned in her pleading blue eyes earlier when Dev had tried to gracefully dodge him and the party altogether. Her hair was an unruly mass of auburn color shot with gold and had been piled into a careless topknot that obviously had refused to stay centered for very long.

Cal halted a few feet behind her, watching as she rested her elbows on the balustrade, chin cupped in her hands, a dreamy look on her face. She wasn’t beautiful in a modeling sense. And he found himself applauding the fact that she wore very little makeup. Most women would have resorted to foundation to cover the riot of freckles across her slightly bumped nose and high cheekbones that insisted on staying after childhood had gone. Her lips were softly parted, full and expressive. Cal scowled, ordering his body to stop responding to that particular part of her anatomy. Her eyebrows were lightly winged, enhanced by a pair of wide, curious blue eyes framed with thick lashes. “Child” certainly fit her, he thought sourly. Innocent, childlike in one way, yet childish if he took into account the crack she had made earlier about saluting him. Mouth thinning, Cal decided to get the confrontation over with.

“If you were trying to lose me, it didn’t work,” he said, coming up beside her.

Dev gasped, startled. She turned quickly with a gazellelike grace that only a fencer with years of training would have acquired. Her eyes widened as she met his dark, disapproving gaze, and her lips parted. Seconds hung suspended between them, and Dev felt an incredible dizziness sweep through her as he stood above her in the darkness. He was all at once a warrior, a male so vital and virile that he literally tore the breath from her, and she lost her voice. His eyes were large and intelligent looking as he stared down at her. Dev had to give herself a mental shake as he placed the cool tumbler of scotch and ice cubes in her hand. His eyes…had she detected sadness in them? He seemed so…desolate? Alone? Yes, she decided, he was terribly alone. Knowing that, she dropped her defensive shield and refused to be drawn into his ugly mood.

“Thank you for the drink, Major. And yes, to be truthful with you, I was trying to hide.” She took a sip, stealing a glance up at him to see what kind of effect her honesty had on him. Cal stood inches away from her, incredibly handsome in uniform, the silver wings over his left breast pocket gleaming in the semidarkness. With a slightly self-deprecating smile, she added, “Neither of us wants to be here, so I thought if I disappeared, you could be spared my company and have an adequate excuse to take off.”

Cal relaxed slightly, leaning against the wrought iron, taking a good, long drink of his own double scotch. “You ran off because you were angry.”

“Touché.”

“Is that fencing talk, Ms Hunter?”

“It is, Major Travis. It means you scored one point against me.”

“I believe I’ve caught you lying to me about the reason why you left.”

Dev’s brows drew down, her eyes turning cobalt. “It was a white lie. White lies don’t hurt anyone,” she snapped. “By shading the truth, I wanted to let you and myself off the hook. There’s nothing wrong with that. Instead, you seem to like the bald truth, regardless of who it hurts.” She took another sip, a longer one.

And so did he. They glared at one another.

“I’m not in the mood for games tonight, Ms Hunter.”

Dev almost choked on her drink and backed off a good two feet from him, her eyes flashing. “Well, excuse me for being alive. You think you’re the only one that has a bad day now and then?” She reached down, positioning her heels and angrily stabbing her feet back into them. She looked ominously at him. “Don’t bother coming after me, Major. I’m in no mood for a sourpuss like you, either! I’ve got jet lag. I’m tired. My wrist hurts, and I’ve got the biggest competition of my life coming up. I don’t need your arrogance, insensitivity and snarling disposition on top of all that!”

Cal leaned back, pursing his lips as he watched Dev Hunter march off the patio and then disappear into the crowd. He turned and frowned. The beaded coolness of the tumbler between his long, spare fingers sedated his temper. Just as well. How long he stood there, gazing blindly out into the night, he didn’t remember. He did know when his tumbler was empty. Already, Cal could feel the numbing effect of alcohol, and he straightened and walked back to the noisy, crowded bar.

He was jostled into someone else and turned to say, “Excuse me.” Dev Hunter was behind him with a pained expression on her face. He had stepped directly on her right foot. His moodiness was momentarily pushed aside when he saw tears gather in her luminous eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quickly reaching out to steady her as she leaned down to grasp the injured foot.

“What are you doing back here?” Dev gritted out.

“Same thing you are. Getting another double. Can you walk?”

Dev sucked in her breath, hobbling away from the bar. “Of course! Just let me go. Haven’t you done enough damage for one night?” She sat down at a small table that had just been vacated, pulling off her heels. “I hate these things!” she griped, throwing them under the table.

Cal hovered nearby. “Can I make it up to you by getting you a drink?”

She snapped up her head, her lips compressed. “That’s the least you can do. Just get me a pop and leave me in peace. One piece.” Her pulse raced as she saw that slightly askew grin tug at one corner of his mouth again.

“Okay, redheaded witch, you’ve got a deal. I’ll get you that drink and then leave you alone.”

Dev was petulant when he returned. Her big toe was throbbing and bruised but not devastated. She barely acknowledged Cal when he set the drink down in front of her.

“Anything else before I leave?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dev’s mouth tightened. Now she was behaving like a spoiled child. At least he had had the manners to apologize for stepping on her foot! She looked up to apologize, but all she saw was the broadness of his shoulders tapering into a lean waist and hips as he was swallowed up by the milling, festive crowd. Following him with her gaze, Dev watched as Cal Travis went back out onto the patio. Alone. He was alone. Again. Angrily, Dev picked up the glass of pop. Why should she feel guilty? He was the one who had started this whole mess.

In her present feisty state, Dev didn’t invite anyone to sit down with her. She drowned herself in thoughts of the forthcoming fencing competition, watching some of the women who would be her competitors and mentally reviewing each of their particular weaknesses or strengths against her own abilities.

Chewing on her lower lip, Dev glanced up, straining to catch a glimpse of Major Travis. Yes, he was still out there, drink between his hands, staring off into the darkness. Her conscience pricked her. She wriggled her toe. It felt much better. Rising, Dev picked up her heels in one hand and her small white purse in the other and went out to the nearly deserted patio.

“Major Travis?”

Cal blinked slowly as if coming back from some far corner of his mind. He turned his head. “Yes?”

Dev put her hands behind her back, gripping the straps of her heels. “I, uh, just wanted to come out and say I was sorry for the way I behaved earlier. You apologized for stepping on my foot, and I didn’t even have the decency to thank you for getting my drink.”

Cal’s gaze lingered first on her flushed face, then traveled down her slender neck to her small breasts and finally to her feet. A slight grin pulled at his mouth. He was feeling no pain now with two doubles in him.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to go barefoot in public?”

Dev matched his burgeoning grin. “My mother taught me to be my own person. Besides, some big marine came by and stepped on my toe.”

“The brute.”

Her eyes glimmered with humor, and Dev walked over to where he stood, looking out over the bay toward Hong Kong. “Are all marines like that? Brutish?” she teased, relieved to find him less threatening.

Cal turned his glass around in his hands, studying it. “I don’t know. Are they?”

She shrugged, enjoying his teasing, noticing that the hardness in his face was no longer quite so evident. “I’ve never met one. Until now.”

Cal snorted softly and bowed his head for a moment. “I’m a lousy example, believe me,” he muttered.

Her heart gave a funny lurch as Dev saw his face lose its coldness for just a second. What she saw in its place stunned her. Something tragic had happened to Cal. Now she really felt guilty about being nasty to him. “I don’t think so,” she countered, her voice husky with feeling. “I just think you’re terribly alone.”

Cal tipped his head, studying Dev intently. He shook his head. “You look like a child, you know that? Those big blue eyes, soft mouth and that vulnerable aura about you.”

Heat rushed to her face; Dev didn’t know quite what to do. “Nah, I just behave like a spoiled brat when I get my toes stepped on, that’s all.”

He gave her a perceptive look, one that said, You don’t fool me. “By the way, how is your toe? I suppose it’s the one you have to fence on?”

“It’s feeling no pain right now, believe me. After a double?” She laughed softly, leaning languidly against the railing, totally at ease.

Cal turned, hip resting on the wrought iron, hungrily absorbing Dev into his memory. “No pain…. You know,” he said with a slight slur, “you’re right on target, Ms Hunter. No pain.” He turned and threw his head back and moved his shoulders as if freeing himself from some imaginary load. “No pain.”

“You can call me Dev if you want to,” she said, watching him.

He set down the tumbler. “Okay, Dev. How about another?”

“No, thank you.”