Navy Woman

An early October drizzle moistened the air when Catherine walked out to the parking lot later that same afternoon. Rain, rain and more rain.

It was already dark, and her calf muscles were so sore she’d decided to skip running at the track. At least that was the excuse she’d given herself. How much truth there was to her rationale was something she’d prefer not to question.

Her GEO Storm was parked in the far end of the lot, and Catherine walked briskly toward it, hunching her shoulders against the chilly air. She opened her door, gratefully climbed inside and turned the ignition. Nothing. She tried again with the same results. The battery was completely dead.

With her hands braced against the steering wheel, Catherine groaned. She knew as much about the internal workings of a car as she did about performing brain surgery. Her automobile was only a few months old; surely there wasn’t anything wrong with the engine.

Climbing out, she decided to check under the hood. How much good that would do was highly debatable, especially in the dark. It took her several minutes to find the clasp that would release the lock. In the dim light from the street lamp, she couldn’t see much of anything.

The only thing she could think to do was call a towing service. She was walking back to her building when a low black sports car rolled past her, then circled around.

“Problems?” It was Royce Nyland.

Catherine froze, her first instinct was to claim she had everything under control and send him on his way. Lie, fib, anything that would postpone another encounter. She hadn’t had the time to filter through her emotions from the one earlier in the day. Royce Nyland flustered her, and clouded her judgment. She wanted to dislike him, categorize him and wrap him up in one neat package. But every time she’d attempted to gain perspective, he did something to alter her opinion of him. He brought out the worst in her and yet she’d never worked harder to impress an officer. Then it came to her with driving force. She was sexually attracted to Royce Nyland.

Attracted in a way that spelled trouble for them both. As long as she was under his command, anything romantic between them was strictly prohibited. The Navy didn’t pull any punches when it came to emotional involvement between men and women, one a supervisor to the other. Not even a hint of impropriety would be tolerated.

For her sake as well as his, she must ignore the fact her heart raced every time she saw him. She had to ignore the way her eyes sought him out whenever he walked into the room. When they were on the track together, she had to disregard the strength and power that radiated from him like warmth from a roaring fire. Royce Nyland was as off-limits to her as a married man.

“Is that your car?” he asked, obviously impatient with her lack of response.

“Yes…it won’t start.”

“I’ll take a look at it for you.”

Before she could tell him she was about to call for a tow truck, he switched gears and drove over to where her Storm was parked with its hood raised. By the time she walked back, he was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“It looks like you left your lights on this morning. The battery’s dead.”

“Oh…I must have.” She wasn’t usually this slow-witted. Running around the track with Royce was one thing, but standing in the far end of the parking lot in the shadows was another. Instinctively she backed away.

“I have a battery cable in my car. I’ll give you a start.” It took only a matter of minutes for him to arrange the clamps linking the cables between the batteries of the two cars. They worked together and within a matter of minutes, her engine was purring contentedly.

She climbed out of the car while Royce disconnected the cable. Although it wasn’t all that cold, she rubbed her hands together several times.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, tossed the cable into the trunk of his car and was prepared to leave when she stopped him.

“Royce.”

She hadn’t meant to say his name, it had slipped out naturally. Apologizing had never come easy to her, but she owed him one—for the heat of her anger, the unreasonableness of her attack. “I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night. If there’s any excuse, it’s that I was tired and short-tempered. It won’t happen again.”

“It was off the record, Fredrickson, don’t worry about it.” His mouth slowly curved into a smile. Their eyes met, solidly, hungrily and God help her, Catherine felt herself step toward him.

“I’m worried.” But it wasn’t what she’d said or done that she was talking about and she knew they both knew it. His eyes continued to detain hers. She’d never seen eyes so dark. They told her things she’d only suspected. Things she didn’t want to know and had no business knowing.

He was lonely. So was she.

He was alone. So was she.

So alone she lay in bed at night and ached. The need to be touched and held and kissed sometimes filled her with desperation.

She sensed the same desperation in Royce. It was what had drawn them together; it was what was keeping them apart.

The seconds throbbed between them like a giant time clock. Neither moved. Catherine dared not breathe. She was one step from walking directly into his arms, one word from spilling out everything she was feeling. The tension between them was as threatening as a thundercloud in a sky of blue. As strong as a prize fighter.

It was Royce who moved first. Away from her. Catherine sighed, her relief was so great.

“There won’t be any problems,” he whispered, turned and walked away.

She knew he wasn’t speaking about her car.

Catherine wished she could believe it, but something told her it was far from the truth.

Royce was shaking. His hands were actually trembling as he sat in his own driveway, composing himself before he walked inside the house. He’d come so close to kissing Catherine that even now the thought of her filling his arms was enough to produce an ache so powerful, so sharp, it took his breath away. Royce was a man who thrived on discipline. He prided himself on his self-control, and yet he’d come a hair’s space from tossing away everything he knew was right. And for what reason? Catherine Fredrickson turned him on.

For three years, Royce had shut off the valve that controlled his carnal appetites. He didn’t need love, didn’t need tenderness or require a woman’s touch. Those were base emotions, best ignored. And neglect them he had until he’d met Catherine.

From the moment she’d walked into his office, he’d been confronted with a surge of unexpected, and unwanted feelings. He hadn’t recognized what he was dealing with in the beginning. Subconsciously he had, otherwise he would never have gone out of his way to ruin her weekends by assigning her duty four Friday nights running. It didn’t take a psychiatrist’s couch to figure that one. He’d been batting a thousand when her name was the first one that drifted into his mind when he learned a substitute coordinator was going to be needed for the physical fitness program.

In analyzing his deeds, Royce realized he was punishing Catherine. With just cause. The lieutenant commander was a constant thorn in his flesh, a reminder that he was a man with needs that refused to be denied any longer.

Unfortunately there was a good deal more at stake than satisfying a deep physical hunger. Catherine was under his command, which put pressure on them both. She was strictly off limits. Neither of them could afford to indulge in this attraction. It would only end up hurting them both. Their careers would suffer, and they’d both worked too damn hard to screw it up now over a few undisciplined hormones.

Dragging a fresh breath through his lungs, Royce closed his eyes and tried to push the picture of Catherine from his mind. He’d seen the emotions tearing at her in the parking lot, witnessed the pride-filled way in which she’d tilted her chin. Damn but the woman was proud. She apologized, accepting all the blame herself, although heaven knew everything she’d said was right. In that moment, he never respected a woman more. For her honesty, for her directness, for the fact she was willing to deal with whatever it was between them, lay it on the ground and call it what it was.

In those few words, heavy with meaning, Catherine had told him something he’d long suspected. Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson was a woman of substance. One so rare, one so beautiful, he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to get her out of his mind. All he knew was that he must succeed even if it meant requesting a transfer and uprooting Kelly from the only home she’d ever known.

Chapter Three

“Can we go to a movie, too?” Kelly asked, snapping her seat belt into place. They were on their way to the Kitsap Mall, where the all-important jacket was on sale. It was either buy his daughter the coat or ruin her life before the eyes of her peers. Royce couldn’t remember clothes and shoes being so vital when he was in grade school, but the world was a hell of a lot different place when he was ten.

“Dad?” Kelly pressed. “What about a movie?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily enough. Why not? He’d been short-tempered all week, due mainly to the fact he was dealing with his feelings for Catherine. Kelly deserved a reward for putting up with his sour mood.

As for what was happening—or better said, what was not happening—between him and Catherine, Royce had rarely spent a more uncomfortable week. He couldn’t walk into the office without being aware of her. Her presence was like a time bomb silently ticking in the corner of the room. Every now and again their eyes would meet and he’d be left to watch the emotions race across the landscape of her dark brown eyes. With everyone around them in the office, there hadn’t been a problem. It was the evening run that tested his soul.

Every afternoon Royce told himself he wouldn’t run. Every afternoon, like precision clockwork, he was at the track, waiting for Catherine to arrive. They ran together, without speaking, without sharing, without looking at each other.

It was uncanny the comfort he found circling the track with the petite lieutenant commander at his side. The track was neutral ground, safe territory for them both. Those all-too-short minutes with Catherine were the reason he got out of bed in the morning, the reason he made it through the day.

When she smiled at him, Royce swore her eyes scored his heart. In the evenings when they’d finished jogging, Catherine would thank him for the workout and then silently return to her car. The moment she was out of sight, Royce was left feeling bereft. He hadn’t realized what poor company a disciplined life-style could make, and what poorer company the long, lonely nights in an empty bed could be. The desolation was as powerful as a blow to his gut.

The evenings were another matter. He almost feared sleep because the moment he slipped into unconsciousness, Catherine filled his mind. She was soft and warm, and so real that all he had to do was reach out and draw her to his side. Royce would never have guessed his mind would play such cruel tricks on him. He was having trouble enough keeping Catherine at a distance, emotionally and physically. In sleep, his mind welcomed her, tormenting him with dreams he couldn’t control. Dreams of Catherine running toward him on the beach, holding her arms out to him. Catherine feminine and soft in his embrace. Catherine laughing. Royce swore he never heard a sound more beautiful in all his life.

If there was anything to be grateful for, and it was damn little, it was the fact the dreams had never developed into anything even remotely physical between them.

In the mornings, Royce woke annoyed with himself, annoyed at Catherine for refusing to leave him alone and irritated with the world. With all the strength of his will, which was admittedly formidable, Royce pushed all thoughts of the lieutenant commander from his mind.

For as long as Catherine was under his command, all Royce could indulge himself in were involuntary dreams. He refused to allow himself the pleasure of recapturing the fantasy of him and Catherine alone together in quiet moments. Unhurried moments. With no demands. No deadlines. Moments when his heart and his soul were at rest.

Life could be a cruel hoax, Royce sharply reminded himself. He’d been taught that time and time again. He wasn’t about to lose everything that was important to him over a woman, even if she did have eyes that looked straight through him.

The mall was crowded, but then it generally was on weekends, especially now that folks were gearing up for Christmas. Royce allowed Kelly to drag him into the J. C. Penney store. But that was only the beginning of the ordeal. The jacket she was so keen on had sold out in her size. The helpful salesclerk had phoned three other stores and there wasn’t a single one available. Even the catalog had sold out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Royce told her. She was bitterly disappointed and trying hard not to show it.

“Do you want to look around for a different coat?” Surely there was a father-of-the-year award for him in this offer. They’d spent nearly an hour on this wild-goose chase already, and Royce’s patience had worn paper thin.

Kelly sat on the wooden bench outside the department store, her head bent low. Royce was about to repeat the question when she shrugged.

“How about something to drink?” Royce was half an hour overdue for a cup of coffee.

Kelly nodded eagerly. She stood and slipped her small hand into his. She didn’t do that often, and Royce guessed she did so now needing his reassurance.

Royce bought her a Pepsi and himself a cup of fresh, hot coffee while Kelly scouted out a place for them to sit. Since it was close to noon, the tables were mostly occupied. They found one and sat down in the white wire chairs.

“Dad,” Kelly whispered excitedly, “look at that pretty lady over there.”

Hell, as far as Royce could see, the entire mall was filled with pretty ladies. “Where?”

“The one in the pink-and-green-and-blue jacket. Over there.” Knowing it was impolite to point, Kelly wiggled her index finger back and forth in the general direction of where she wanted him to look. “Look, she’s sorta walking toward us. Hurry and look before she turns away.”

As he’d mused earlier, life could be filled with cruel hoaxes, and it was about to play another one on him now. Before he even realized what he was doing, Royce was on his feet. “Hello, Catherine.”

“Royce.” Her dark eyes were bright with surprise as well, and frankly, she didn’t look any more pleased than he felt.

“How are you?” he heard himself ask stiffly.

“Fine.”

“Dad.” Impatiently, Kelly tugged on the hem of his leather jacket. “I like her coat…a whole lot.”

Royce watched as Catherine’s eyes momentarily left his and landed on Kelly. Once again surprise registered in the dark depths, but was quickly replaced by a gentleness and warmth that tightened strong cords around his heart. He’d never mentioned his daughter, and it was apparent she hadn’t known he’d been married. Maybe she thought he was married still.

“This is my daughter, Kelly,” Royce said, his voice low and throaty.

“Hello, Kelly. I’m Catherine.” She dragged her eyes away from him and held out her hand to his daughter. “Your dad and I work together.” She said this, Royce was convinced, as a reminder to them both. Hell, he didn’t need it.

“Your jacket is real pretty,” Kelly said quietly. She continued to tug on Royce’s sleeve until he was convinced she’d pulled the armhole down to his elbow.

“What Kelly would like to know is where you bought it,” Royce inserted dryly.

“And if they have kid sizes?” the ten-year-old asked excitedly.

“I got it right here in the mall, in Jacobson’s.”

“Dad,” Kelly said, pushing aside her drink, “let’s go look, okay?”

Royce glanced longingly at his coffee. He’d barely had time to take a single sip. Kelly was looking at him as if to say Jacobson’s was sure to sell out in the next ten minutes if they didn’t get there.

“I don’t know if they have kid sizes,” Kelly stated urgently, as though another five or ten minutes was sure to make the difference. “I know it’s a ladies’ store and everything, but you can wait outside if you want and I’ll go in by myself.”

“Why don’t I take you down,” Catherine suggested.

It took a fair amount of self-control not to leap up and kiss her. “You don’t mind?” He had to ask. Pride demanded that much, at least.

“Not a bit. Go ahead and enjoy your coffee,” Catherine suggested, her gaze returning to him. “We won’t be more than a few minutes.”

He should refuse. Royce knew it the minute she made the offer, but Kelly was looking up at him, her eyes alive with excitement, and before he could argue with himself, he nodded.

A daughter, Catherine mused. Royce had a daughter. Catherine had worked with him for five weeks, and no one had bothered to mention the fact he’d been married or that he was raising Kelly. The child was incredibly sweet, with long dark hair and eyes so blue they reminded Catherine of wild bluebonnets. Kelly was as gentle and cute as Royce was remote and indifferent.

Catherine had noted how closely Royce had watched her when he introduced Kelly. His eyes had darkened into a brittle defiance as though he expected her to do or say something about the fact she hadn’t known about the child. She found herself staring at him and the proud lines of his chiseled features. Catherine’s gaze had moved smoothly from father to daughter. There was no doubt in her mind the two were related. Kelly possessed the same beautiful blue eyes, and although her face was heart-shaped and feminine, she was clearly a Nyland.

Until she’d walked into the shopping complex, Catherine hadn’t realized how hungry she was for the sight of Royce. From clear across the other side of the mall, she’d walked directly to his side, guided by instinct to the man who’d dominated her thoughts for days on end.

“We went to the J. C. Penney store,” Kelly explained as they walked side by side down the wide concourse, “but all the jackets in my size were sold. We looked and looked and I was feeling really low so Dad bought me a Pepsi and then we saw you,” Kelly explained in one giant breath. “Your jacket is just perfect.”

Catherine had bought it a couple of weeks earlier. Being new to the Pacific Northwest, she needed something heavier than a raincoat. The jacket had caught her eye in a ski shop, and although Catherine didn’t ski, she’d been attracted to the colors, just the way Kelly had.

“I like it, too. And as I recall, they did have children’s sizes.”

“Dad doesn’t like to shop much,” Kelly explained as they wove their way between the moving crowd. “He does it for me, but I know he’d rather be watching a silly football game. Men are like that, you know?”

“So I’ve heard.” As far as understanding the male of the species, Royce’s daughter knew a whole lot more than Catherine did. For as long as she could remember, it had always been her and her mother. In college she’d lived in a girls’ dormitory.

“Dad tries real hard, but he doesn’t understand a lot of things about girls.”

Catherine couldn’t help grinning at that. Evidently she wasn’t the only one at a loss when it came to understanding the opposite sex. Apparently what she and Royce needed was a ten-year-old to straighten out their lives.

They found the store, and indeed there was a jacket almost identical to the one Catherine had that was in Kelly’s size. After Royce’s daughter tried it on and modeled it in front of a mirror, Catherine had the salesclerk put it on hold.

Kelly raced back to the large open eating area to tell Royce about the rare find. Catherine followed close behind.

“It’s got pink and green and blue. Not the same shade of blue as Catherine’s, but almost. I can have it, can’t I?” She dug into her small pocket at the top of her jeans and dragged out the five single dollar bills one at a time and then several coins from a different pocket. “I’ll pay for part of it.”

Royce stood and tossed the empty coffee cup into the garbage. “All right, all right. I know when I’m defeated.” He glanced over at Catherine and winked.

Catherine couldn’t believe it. The iceman winked as if he were a regular human being. Royce Nyland was one man in the office, another on the running track and someone else entirely different when he was with his daughter.

“I…can see you’ve got everything under control here,” Catherine said, thinking she should probably leave. She felt awkward with Royce.

“Don’t go,” Kelly cried, reaching for Catherine’s hand with both of her own. “Dad said he’d buy me pizza for lunch, and I want you to come, too.”

“I’m sure Catherine has other plans,” Royce said matter-of-factly.

Catherine noted that he didn’t repeat the invitation, which was just as well. Yet, she couldn’t hold back the sense of disappointment. “Yes, I do have some things to do. I was just going into the pet store to buy my cat a new litter box.”

“I love the pet store,” Kelly piped in eagerly. “Once they even let me hold a new puppy. I wanted to buy it real bad, but Dad said we couldn’t because there wouldn’t be anyone home during the day to take care of him.”

Catherine’s heart melted as she gazed down on Royce’s daughter. So young and tender. Catherine remembered herself at that age and how life had been such a wonderful adventure then.

“Oh, do come, Catherine. Please.”

Catherine’s gaze moved to Royce. She expected his eyes to be cool and unreadable as they were so much of the time. Instead she found them troubled and unsure, yet inviting. Catherine felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.

“I…are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” By everything that was right, she knew she should refuse. They were standing so close to the fire, close enough to get burned, and yet they each seemed to be taking turns tossing kindling into the flames.

“I’m sure,” Royce answered.

“Oh, good,” Kelly cried, seemingly unaware of the tension between Catherine and her father. “I certainly hope you don’t like anchovies. Dad gets them on his half whenever we order pizza. Those things are disgusting.”

A half hour later, they were sitting in a pizza parlor. Catherine and Kelly shared an Italian sausage and olive pizza pie while Royce ate his own, covered with the tiny fish both women found so offensive.

Although it was comfortably warm inside the restaurant, Kelly insisted upon wearing her new coat.

“Are those fingernails actually yours?” Kelly asked halfway through the meal.

Catherine nodded, her mouth full of pizza.

“You mean you don’t have a single acrylic tip?”

It was incredible to Catherine that a ten-year-old knew about such things. “Not even one,” she assured the girl.

Kelly’s eyes widened with renewed respect. She held up her hand for Catherine to examine, showing the short, stubby ends of her own nails. Catherine reached for her purse and brought out her fingernail kit for Kelly to examine, explaining each instrument.

“What are you two talking about?” Royce demanded in mock exasperation. “As near as I can figure, you women have your own language.”

Kelly reverently closed the case and returned it to Catherine. Her eyes drifted from Royce to her and then back again. Catherine could almost see the tiny wheels churning in the little girl’s head.

“Are you married, Catherine?” The girl asked innocently enough.

“Ah…no.” Catherine’s throat felt tight and dry all of a sudden.

“Neither is my dad,” the ten-year-old added, her words fraught with meaning. “My mom died, you know?” Kelly said it with complete lack of emotion, as though losing a mother was simply part of growing up.

“No…I wasn’t aware of that.” Catherine avoided looking at Royce.

Kelly took another couple of moments to assess the situation. “So you and my dad work together?”

“Kelly Lynn.” Royce used a tone Catherine had heard often in the office. It brought trained sailors to attention, and it worked just as well with his daughter.