The Right Touch

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. ‘Travis, you’re a ring-tailed bastard whose mistress is an airplane and whose mother is the marine corps.’” He turned, giving her a glazed look. “Doesn’t leave much room in my life for a wife, does it?”

“Who said anything about a wife?” she asked, watching him closely. His eyes were heavy lidded, and he was almost completely relaxed. Dev wondered when the alcohol was going to fell him.

“You.”

“Me? I didn’t, either!”

“See, there you go again. Exploding. You’re more sensitive than a laser-fired rocket, you know that?”

“That’s your fault.”

His smile was devastating. “You’d make good wifely material, Dev Hunter.”

“You’re drunk, Travis. Stone cold drunk. And if you don’t sit down, you’re going to fall down.”

Cal dismissed her with a wave of his hand, feeling no pain. At last, he was free of the anguish. He felt good. Dev made him happy just by being herself. “Sure, you’d make someone a great wife. Nice body, good sense of humor—”

“You want to look at my teeth before you buy, Travis?” she snapped back, becoming truly concerned as he leaned precariously on the rail. Dev reached out, taking the tumbler from his fingers before he dropped it. She heard someone approaching and looked up. Her heart sank—two marine pilots.

“Hey, Cal, you ready to go over to Wanchai? I think we’ve punched the ticket long enough. What do you say, buddy?”

Cal tipped his head toward Dev. “Nah, you go on, Scotty. Got my hands full here.”

“You sure?”

Dev gave Cal Travis a deadly look and turned to the pilot named Scotty. “Correction: he hasn’t got his hands full of anything. He’s so drunk that he’s ready to keel over. Why don’t you take him back to the boat and—”

“Ship, Dev. It’s called a ship, not a boat,” Cal corrected her, grinning lopsidedly.

She glared at him. “Thanks for the naval lesson, Major Travis. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I don’t want to keep you from Wanchai or whatever it’s called!”

Cal looked dismayed, watching her stalk off in anger, her auburn hair a burnished red and gold beneath the light of the chandeliers as she went inside to the party that was still going full steam. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. And then a grin creased his features. She didn’t have her shoes on! He watched as she whipped between two groups of people. One of the heels she was carrying in her hand flew out of her grasp, dropping unnoticed to the floor.

Scotty shot a glance over to him. “Whew, she’s a redhead, all right.”

With a concentrated effort, Cal launched himself to his feet from his leaning position at the rail. “Yeah. Feisty. But nice. I was a little rough on her. Listen, you go on, there’s one thing I’ve got to do before I leave,” he told them, eyeing the white heel that lay on the floor.

“Going to apologize, Travis?” Scotty drawled.

“She’d probably nail me with a right hook if I tried to. No, she dropped one of her heels. I’ll take it up to her and then grab a taxi over to Wanchai. You guys going to be at the Golden Dragon?”

“Is there any other place?”

“No. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Scotty grinned. “Yeah, well, try and stay on your feet, Travis. And don’t get nailed.”

2

IN THE MIDDLE of her beautifully appointed room, Dev wriggled out of her dress. She tossed the Victor Kosta on one of the double beds and stalked over to the mahogany dresser, jerking open a drawer. Who in the hell did Cal Travis think he was? What an arrogant ass! She yanked on a pair of her favorite threadbare jeans that were almost white from so much wear and a bright-red T-shirt emblazoned in white and silver with a fencer wielding an èpè. She spotted one of her heels. Where was the other? Muttering under her breath, Dev searched every square inch of her room. Where could it be?

“Damn it.” She sat back on her heels. In exasperation, she loosened her auburn hair, and it tumbled down around her shoulders in wavy abandon, framing her face. Throwing her hands on her hips, she glared around the area. “It’s all your fault, Major Travis! My only pair of heels. I’ll bet I lost it when I left the party.” A knock on the door startled her. Immediately, her brows knit in a frown.

“Who is it?” she yelled. She wasn’t in any mood for Sarah or any of her other fencing friends to visit her right now. All she wanted was to soak her aching wrist in Epsom salts, work on her fencing gear and then go to bed.

Another knock.

Dev leaped to her feet, angry at whoever it was because he or she didn’t even have the decency to respond to her call. Barefoot, she marched down the long hall, unchained the door and removed the dead bolt. With a yank, the door was open.

“What do you want?” she demanded, glaring up at the marine. Dev tried to still her leaping pulse. Cal Travis looked remarkably relaxed.

“Is that the way you always answer your door?” he asked silkily. Damn, she looked gorgeous, Cal thought, his gaze hungrily taking in her unruly hair, slender body emphasized by nice rounded breasts and those delicious, beautifully curved thighs. He was coming to appreciate fencers and fencing, he thought, laughing to himself.

“When it’s an arrogant marine corps pilot like you, you bet I do!” Dev flared back. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve lost one of my heels, and I’ve got to go back upstairs to find it.”

Cal drew the white leather heel from behind his back, dangling it like a carrot before her. “I found it.”

Dev pouted, feeling some of her anger abate. Well, he wasn’t a total bastard, after all. She reached out for it, her long fingers wrapping around the strap.

He didn’t let go.

Dev’s mouth narrowed dangerously. His eyes were a warm, inviting gray. He was silently laughing at her.

“Let me have my shoe, Major.”

“Only if you invite me in for a cup of coffee first,” he said huskily.

Dev felt a thrill along her fingers as his hand remained lightly against her own. “If you think you’re coming in for a roll in the hay, forget it. Go to your Wanchai or whatever it is.”

Cal’s mouth slowly drew into a mocking grin. “Are all fencers as blunt and paranoid as you?”

Her eyes glittered. Dev felt embarrassed and stupid standing out in the hall with her heel gripped firmly between them. A warning bell went off inside her: he reminded her of a big cat playing with a cornered mouse. And she was his dinner. “Only when they’re under attack,” she parried nervously beneath his heavy-lidded appraisal. God, the man could melt butter with those eyes of his!

“But I’m not attacking you. I brought you your heel, and I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved earlier.”

“Apologize?” Her lips parted, and she ruthlessly searched his enigmatic expression for some telltale sign that he was lying through his playboy teeth.

Cal released the shoe, lounged against the doorjamb and stuck his hands deep into his pockets, watching her. She was sensuous in that outfit. Tall and built like a racing greyhound. And not an inch of fat or flab on her. “Yes, ma’am. I wasn’t much of a gentleman earlier. I embarrassed the hell out of you in front of my friends.” His voice lowered. “And I am sorry. It’s been a tough week, and I really didn’t want to come to this function. I figured if I got drunk, I wouldn’t feel anything.” Cal glanced up, meeting and melting beneath her suddenly compassionate blue eyes. “I hadn’t counted on meeting a highly fascinating, not to mention beautiful, red-haired woman tonight.” Cal forced himself back to his feet, dizziness stalking him as he took his hands out of his pockets. He gave her a warm smile. “That’s all I wanted to say, Dev. I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”

Dev watched him turn and slowly walk down the hall toward the elevators. He was weaving. “Wait!” she called, her voice carrying strongly. “Cal?”

He stopped and turned. “What?”

She held up the heel. “How about that coffee? I mean, you drank a lot. And you’re walking like a duck.”

His grin was irrepressible as he turned and came back toward her. “A duck?”

“Sort of. You had three doubles. That’s a lot of liquor. Come on in.”