Читать книгу Navy Brat - Debbie Macomber - Страница 7

As an adult, Erin had made several decisions about how she intended to live her life. She followed the Golden Rule, and she never used her credit cards if she couldn’t pay off the balance the following month.

And she didn’t date men in the military.

Her life wasn’t encumbered with a lot of restrictions. Everything that was important and necessary was wrapped up in these relatively simple rules.

Then why, she asked herself, had she agreed to have dinner with Brand Davis? Lieutenant Davis, J.G., she reminded herself disparagingly.

“Why?” she repeated aloud, stacking papers against the edge of her desk with enough force to bend them in half.

“Heavens, don’t ask me,” Aimee answered, grinning impishly. After a day spent interviewing job applicants, talking aloud to oneself was an accepted form of behavior.

“I’m supposed to meet him tonight, you know,” Erin said in a low, thought-filled voice. If there had been an easy way out of this, she’d have grabbed it.

If only Brand hadn’t kissed her. No one had ever told her kissing could be so…so pleasant. First her knees had gone weak, and then her formidable will of iron had melted and pooled at her feet. Before she’d even realized what she was doing, she’d mindlessly walked into Brand’s trap. It was just like a navy man to zero in on her weakest point and attack.

Rolling her antique oak chair away from her desk, Aimee relaxed against its rail back and angled her head to one side as she studied Erin. “Are you still lamenting the fact you agreed to have dinner with that gorgeous hunk? Honey, trust me in this, you should be counting your blessings.”

“He’s military.”

“I know.” Aimee rotated a pen between her hands as she gazed dreamily into the distance. A contented look stole over her features as she released a long-drawn-out sigh. “I can just picture him in a uniform, standing at attention. Why, it’s enough to make my heart go pitter-patter.”

Erin refused to look at her friend. If Aimee wanted Brand, she was welcome to him. Of course, her friend wasn’t truly interested, since she was already married to Steve and had been for a decade. “If I could think of a plausible excuse to get out of this, I would.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

She wasn’t. “You have dinner with him.”

Aimee shook her head eagerly. “Trust me, if I were five years younger I’d take you up on that.”

Since Aimee’s marriage was going through some rocky times, Erin didn’t think it was necessary to remind her friend that dating wasn’t something that should interest her.

“Relax, would you?” Aimee admonished her.

“I can’t.” Erin tucked her stapler and several pens neatly inside her desk drawer. “As far as I’m concerned, this evening is going to be a total waste of time.” She could be doing something important, like…like laundry or answering mail. It was just her luck that Brand had suggested Wednesday night. Tuesday was the first class for the new session for the Women In Transition course. Thursday night was the second session. Naturally, Brand had chosen to ask her out the one night of the week when she was free.

“You’re so tense,” Aimee chastised. “You might as well be walking around in a suit of armor.”

“I’ll be okay,” Erin said, not listening to her fellow worker. She stood and planted her hands against the side of her desk before sighing heavily. “This is what I’m going to do. I’ll meet him just the way we arranged.”

“That’s a good start,” Aimee teased.

“We’ll find a restaurant, and I’ll order right away, eat and then make my excuses as soon as I can. I don’t want to insult him, but at the same time I want him to understand I regret ever having agreed to this date.” She waited for a response. When Aimee didn’t give her one, she arched her brows expectantly. “Well?”

“It sounds good to me.” But the look Aimee gave her said otherwise.

It was amazing how much a person could say with a look. Erin didn’t want to take the time to dwell on the fact, especially now, when she was thinking about the messages she’d given Brand the night he’d kissed her. Apparently she’d encouraged him enough to ask her out to dinner a second time.

Erin didn’t want to dwell on that night. It embarrassed her to think about the way she’d responded so openly to his touch. Her face grew hot just remembering. She shouldn’t think about it—she was running late as it was. Reaching for her purse, she checked her watch and hurried toward the elevator.

“Don’t get started in the morning until we’ve had a chance to talk,” Aimee called out after her.

They generally clocked in at eight, reviewed files and then spent a large portion of the day with job applicants or meeting with prospective employers. Sometimes she wasn’t back in the office until after four.

“I won’t,” Erin promised without looking back. Walking briskly, she raised her hand in farewell.

“Have a good time,” Aimee called out in a provocative, teasing tone that attracted the notice of their peers.

This time Erin did turn back to discover her coworker sitting on the edge of her desk, her arms folded, one leg swinging. A mischievous grin brightened her round, cheerful face.

But Erin wasn’t counting on this evening being much fun.

Once outside the revolving glass door of the tall office complex, Erin paused and glanced around. Brand had said he’d be waiting for her there. She didn’t see him right away, and she was beginning to think he wasn’t going to show.

It must have been wishful thinking on her part, because no sooner had the thought entered her mind than he stepped away from the building and sauntered toward her.

His gaze found hers, and Erin was struck afresh by what a devilishly handsome man Brandon Davis was. If she wasn’t careful, she might find herself attracted to him. She wasn’t immune to good looks and charm, and they seemed to ooze from every pore of his muscular body.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly. Her defenses were in place as she deliberately kept her eyes trained away from his smile. It was compelling enough to dazzle the most stouthearted. Erin hadn’t had enough experience with the opposite sex to build up a resistance to a man like Brand.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said when he reached her side.

“I wasn’t sure I would, either.” That was stretching the truth. She was a navy brat. Responsibility, promptness and duty had been programmed into her the way most children were taught to brush their teeth and make their beds. No one could live on a military base and not be affected by the value system promoted there.

“I’m glad you did decide to meet me.” His eyes were warm and genuine, and she hurriedly looked away before she could be affected by them.

“Where would you like to eat?” To Erin’s way of thinking, the sooner they arrived at the restaurant, the sooner she could leave. She wanted this evening to be cut-and-dried, without a lot of room for discussion.

“Ever been to Joe’s Grill?”

Erin’s gaze widened with delight. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, but it’s been years.” Since she was ten by her best guess. Her father had been stationed at Sand Point, and whenever there was something to celebrate he’d taken the family out to eat at Joe’s. Generally restaurants weren’t something a child would remember, but it seemed her family had a special place in each of the cities where they’d been stationed through the years. Joe’s Grill had been their Seattle favorite.

“I asked around and heard the food there is great,” Brand said, placing his hand at her elbow.

She felt his touch, and although it was light and impersonal it still affected her. “You mean the guys from Sand Point still eat there?”

“Apparently so.”

A flood of happy memories filled Erin’s mind. For her tenth birthday, Joe himself had baked her a double-decker chocolate cake. She could still remember him proudly carrying it out of the kitchen as if he’d been asked to give away the bride. Visiting the restaurant had crossed her mind half a dozen times since she’d moved to Seattle, but with her hectic schedule she hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Joe’s Grill,” she repeated, fighting the strong desire to fill in the details about her birthday and the cake to Brand. Her eyes met his, and mutual smiles emerged, despite Erin’s attempts to the contrary. She had to keep her head out of the clouds when it came to dealing with this handsome lieutenant j.g. Reminding herself of that was apparently something that was going to be necessary all evening.

Brand’s car was parked on a side street. He held open the passenger door for her and gently closed it once she was inside.

He did most of the talking as he drove to the restaurant. Every once in a while Erin would feel herself start to relax in his company, a sure sign she was headed for trouble. She’d give herself a hard mental shake and instantly put herself back on track.

When Brand eased the vehicle into Joe’s crowded parking lot, Erin looked around her and nearly drowned in nostalgia. She swore the restaurant hadn’t changed in nearly twenty years. The same neon sign flashed from above the flat-topped roof, with a huge T-bone steak lit up in red and Joe’s Grill flashing off and on every two seconds.

“As I recall, the steaks here are so thick they resemble roasts, and the baked potatoes were larger than a boxer’s fist.” She was confident that was an exaggeration, but in her ten-year-old mind that was the way it seemed.

“That’s what my friend said,” Brand said, climbing out of the car.

The inside was much as Erin remembered. A huge fish tank built into the wall was filled with a wide variety of colorful saltwater fish. The cash register rested on top of a large glass display case full of tempting candy and gum. Erin never had understood why a restaurant that served wonderful meals would want to sell candy to its customers afterward.

The hostess escorted them to a table by a picture window that revealed a breath-taking panorama of Lake Union.

Erin didn’t open her menu right away. Instead, she looked around, soaking up the ambience, feeling as if she were a kid all over again.

“This reminds me of a little place on Guam,” Brand said, his gaze following hers. “The tables have the same red tablecloths under a glass covering.”

“Not…” She had to stop and think.

“The Trattoria,” Brand supplied.

“Yes.” Erin was impressed he’d even heard of it, but then he probably had since everyone stationed on Guam ate there at one time or another. “They serve a clam spaghetti my father swore he would die for. My mom tried for years to duplicate the recipe and finally gave up. Who would ever believe a tiny restaurant on the island of Guam would serve the best Italian food in the world?”

“Better even than Miceli’s in Rome?” he probed.

“You’ve been to Miceli’s?” she asked excitedly. Obviously he had, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned it. The fresh-from-the-oven-bread was what she remembered about Miceli’s. The aroma would drift through the narrow cobblestoned streets of the Italian town like nothing Erin had ever known. Her stomach growled just thinking about it.

“I’ve been in the navy nearly fifteen years,” he reminded her.

Mentioning the fact that he was navy was like slapping a cold rag across her face and forcing her back to reality. Her reaction was immediate. She reached for the menu, jerked it open and decided what she intended to order in three seconds flat. She looked up, hoping to catch the waitress’s eye.

“I can’t decide if I’m hungry enough for the T-bone or not,” Brand remarked conversationally. He glanced over the menu a second time before looking to her. “You’ve decided?”

“Yes. I’ll have the peppercorn filet.”

Brand nodded, apparently saluting her choice. “That sounds good. I’ll have the same.”

“No,” Erin said, surprised by how adamant she sounded. “Have the T-bone. It’s probably the best of any place in town. And since you’re only going to be in Seattle a few weeks, you really should sample Joe’s specialty.”

“All right, I will.” Brand smiled at her, and Erin’s heart started to pound like a giant sledgehammer, a fact she chose to ignore.

The waitress arrived to take their order, and Brand suggested a bottle of wine.

“No, thanks, none for me,” Erin said quickly. After what had happened the night they’d met, she’d considered living her entire life without drinking wine again. It was probably ridiculous to blame two glasses of Chablis for the eager way she’d responded to Brand’s kisses. But it was an excuse, and she badly needed one. She certainly wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. Her objective was to get through this dinner, thank Brand and then go her own way. Naturally she wanted them to part with the understanding she didn’t ever intend to date him again. But she wanted to be sure he realized it was nothing personal.

The conversation that followed was polite, if a tad stilted. Erin’s hand circled the water glass, and her gaze flittered across the restaurant, gathering in the memories.

“I made a mistake,” Brand announced out of the blue, capturing her attention. “I shouldn’t have reminded you I’m navy. You were enjoying yourself until then.”

Erin lowered her gaze to the red linen napkin in her lap. “Actually, I’m grateful. It’s far too easy to forget with you.” As she spoke, Erin could hear a thread of resentment and fear in her own voice.

“I was hoping we might be able to forget about that.”

“No,” she answered, softly, regretfully. “I can’t allow myself to forget. You’re here for how long? Two, three weeks?” She asked this as a reminder to herself of how foolish it would be to become involved with Brand.

“Two weeks.”

“That’s what I thought.” Her gaze drifted toward the kitchen in a silent appeal to the chef to hurry with their order. The more time she spent with Brand, the more susceptible she was to his charm. He was everything she feared. Appealing. Attractive. Charming. She was beginning to hate that word, but it seemed to fit him so well.

He asked her about the places she’d lived, and she answered him as straightforwardly as she could, trying not to let the resentment seep into her voice. Her answers were abridged, clipped.

Their meal arrived, and none too soon, as far as Erin was concerned.

Brand’s steak was delicious. As delicious as Erin had promised, cooked to perfection. He didn’t know what to make of Erin MacNamera, however. Hell, he didn’t know what to make of himself. She’d made her views on seeing him plain enough. He didn’t know what it was about her that affected him so strongly. The challenge, perhaps. There weren’t many women who turned him down flat the way she had.

The challenge was there, he’d admit that, but it was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, Erin was driving him crazy.

They’d agreed to meet outside her office building, and Brand had half expected her to stand him up. When she had shown, he’d noted regretfully that it wasn’t out of any desire to spend time with him. At first she’d been tense. They’d started talking, and she’d lowered her guard and been beginning to relax. Then he’d blown it by reminding her he was in the navy.

From that point on he might as well have been sitting across the table from a robot. He’d asked her something, and she’d answered him with one-word replies or by simply shrugging her shoulders. After a while he’d given up the effort. If she wanted conversation with her dinner, then she could damn well carry it on her own.

It didn’t come as any surprise to Brand that she was ready to leave the minute they finished. He collected the bill, left a generous tip and escorted Erin to the car.

“Are you parked at the same lot off Yesler?” he asked once they were in traffic.

“Yes. You can drop me off there, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Brand noted that she sounded downright eager to part company with him. This woman was definitely a detriment to his ego. Fine, he got the message. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d even suggested this dinner date. As Erin had taken pains to remind him, he would be in Seattle only a couple of weeks. The implication being that he’d be out of her life forever then. Apparently that was exactly what she wanted.

In retrospect, Brand was willing to admit why he’d asked her out to dinner.

It was the kiss.

Her response, so tentative in the beginning, so hesitant and unsure, had thrown him for a loop. If Casey was ever to find out Brand had kissed his red-haired daughter, there would be hell to pay. The sure wrath of his friend hadn’t altered the fact Brand had wanted to kiss Erin. And kiss her he had, until his knees had been knocking and his heart had been roaring like a runaway train.

What had started out as a challenge had left him depleted and shaken. Numb with surprise and wonder. Erin had flowered in his arms like a rare tropical plant. She was incredibly sweet, and so soft that he’d been forced to use every ounce of restraint he possessed not to crush her in his arms.

This dinner date was a different story. She could hardly wait to get out of his car. Fine. He’d let her go, because frankly he wasn’t much into cultivating a relationship with a woman who clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He pulled off First Avenue onto the lot and left the engine running, hoping she’d get his message, as well.

Her hand was already closed around the door handle. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” was his stiff reply. His tone bordered on the sarcastic, but if she noticed she didn’t comment.

“I’m sorry I was such poor company.”

He didn’t claim otherwise. She hesitated, and for a wild moment Brand thought she might lean over and gently kiss him goodbye. It would have been a nice gesture on her part.

She didn’t.

Instead she scooted out of the car, fiddled with the snap of her purse and retrieved her key chain, all while he sat waiting for her. When she’d opened the door to her Toyota, she twisted around and smiled sadly, as if she wanted to say something more. She didn’t, however. She just climbed inside resolutely.

Brand had to back up his car in order for her to pull out of the parking space. He did so with ease, reversing his way directly into the street. She came out after him and headed in the opposite direction.

His hand tightened around the steering wheel as she drove off into the night.

“Goodbye, Erin. We might have been friends,” he murmured, and regret settled over his shoulders like a heavy wool jacket.

Once he was back at his room in the officers’ quarters, Brand showered and climbed into bed. He read for a while, but the novel, which had been touted as excellent, didn’t hold his interest. After fifteen minutes, he turned out the light.

He should have kissed her.

The thought flashed through his mind like a shot from a ray gun.

Hell, no. It was apparent Erin didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Wonderful. Great. He was man enough to accept her decision.

Forcefully, he punched up the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

Before he realized what he was doing, a slight smile curved his lips. She should count herself lucky he hadn’t taken it upon himself to prove her wrong and kiss her again. If he had, she would have been putty in his hands, just the way she had been the first time. Erin MacNamera might well have believed she had the situation under control, but she hadn’t. She’d been tense and uneasy, and for no other reason than the fear that Brand was going to take her in his arms again.

He should have. He’d wanted to. Until now he hadn’t been willing to admit how damn much he had longed to taste her again.

Brand rolled over onto his stomach and nuzzled his face into the thick softness of the pillow. Erin had been feather-soft. When she’d moved against him, her breasts had lightly cushioned his chest. The memory of her softness clouded his mind.

Burying his face in the pillow added fuel to his imagination, and he abruptly rolled over. He firmly shut his eyes and sighed as he started to drift off.

It didn’t work. Instead, he saw Erin’s sweet Irish face looking back at him.

Her eyes were an unusual shade of brown. Man-enticing brown, he decided. With her curly red hair and her pale, peach-smooth complexion, her eye color was something of a surprise. He’d expected blue or green, not dark brown.

Beautiful brown eyes…so readable, so clear, looking back at him, as if she were suffering from a wealth of regrets just before she’d climbed into her car.

Brand was suffering from a few regrets of his own. He hadn’t kissed her. Nor had he suggested they see each other again.

Damn his pride. He should have done something, anything, to persuade her. Now she was gone….

Sleep danced around him until he was on the verge of drifting off completely. Then his eyes snapped open, and a slow, satisfied smile turned up the edges of his mouth.

He knew exactly what he intended to do.

Erin remembered Marilyn Amundson from the first session of the Women in Transition course on Tuesday evening. The middle-aged woman with pain-dulled blue eyes and fashionably styled hair had sat at the back of the room, in the last row. Throughout most of the class, she’d kept her gaze lowered. Erin noted that the woman took copious notes as she outlined the sixteen-session course. Every now and again, the older woman would pause, dab a tissue at the corner of her eyes and visibly struggle to maintain her aplomb.

At nine, when class was dismissed, Marilyn had slowly gathered her things and hurried outside the classroom. Later Erin had seen a car stop in front of the college to pick her up.

It was Erin’s guess that Marilyn didn’t drive. It wasn’t unusual for the women who signed up for the course to have to rely on someone else for transportation.

Most of the women were making a new life for themselves. Some came devastated by divorce, others from the death of a loved one. Whatever the reason, they all shared common ground and had come to learn and help each other. When the sessions were finished, the classes continued to meet as a monthly support group.

The greatest rewards Erin had had as a social worker were from the Women in Transition course. The transformation she’d seen in the participants’ lives in the short two months she taught the class reminded her of the metamorphosis of a cocoon into a butterfly.

The first few classes were always the most difficult. The women came feeling empty inside, fearful, tormented by the thought of facing an unknown future. Many were angry, some came guilt-ridden, and there were always a few who were restless, despairing and pessimistic.

What a good portion of those who signed up for the course didn’t understand when they first arrived was how balanced life was. Whenever there was a loss, the stage was set for something to be gained. A new day was born, the night was lost. A flower blossomed, the bud was lost. In nature and in all aspects of life an advantage could be found in a loss. A balance, oftentimes not one easily explained or understood, but a symmetry nevertheless, was waiting to be discovered and explored. It was Erin’s privilege to teach these women to look for the gain.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you?”

Erin paused. “Of course. You’re Marilyn Amundson?”

“Yes.” The older woman reached for a tissue and ran it beneath her nose. Her fingers were trembling, and it was several moments before she spoke. “I can’t seem to stop crying. I sit in class and all I do is cry…. I want to apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to. I understand.”

Marilyn smiled weakly. “Some of the other women in class look so…like they’ve got it all together, while I’m a basket case. My husband…” She paused when her voice faltered. “He asked me for a divorce two weeks ago. We’ve been married over thirty years. Apparently he met someone else five or six years ago, and they’ve been seeing each other ever since…only I didn’t know.”

This was a story Erin had heard several times over, but it wouldn’t lessen Marilyn’s pain for Erin to imply that she was another statistic. What she did need to hear was that others had survived this ordeal, and so would she.

“I’d…gone out shopping. The bus stops right outside our house, and when I returned home, Richard was there. I knew right away something was wrong. Richard only rarely wears his suit. I asked him what he was doing home in the middle of the day, and all he could do was stand there and stare at me. Then…then he said he was sorry to do it this way, and he handed me the divorce papers. Just like that—without any warning. I didn’t know about the other woman…. I suppose I should have, but I…I trusted him.”

Erin’s heart twisted at the torment that echoed in the other woman’s voice. Marilyn struggled to hold back the tears, her lips quivering with the effort.

“Although this may feel like the worst moment of your life, you will survive,” Erin said gently, hugging her briefly. “I promise you that. The healing process is like everything else, there’s a beginning, a middle and an end. It feels like the whole world has caved in on you now.”

“That’s exactly the way I feel. Richard is my whole life…was my whole life. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Have you seen an attorney?”

Marilyn shook her head. “Not yet…My pastor suggested I take this course, and find my footing, so to speak.”

“In session twelve a lawyer will visit the class. You can ask any questions you like then.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Marilyn went on, once she’d composed herself. “What you said about the balance of things, how nature and life even things out…well, it made a lot of sense to me. Few things do these days.”

Erin reached for her coat, slipping her arms into the satin-lined sleeves. She smiled, hoping the gesture would offer Marilyn some reassurance. “I’m pleased you’re finding the class helpful.”

“I don’t think I could have made it through this last week without it.” She retreated a few steps and smiled again. This time it came across stronger.

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll be here.” Buttoning up her own coat, Marilyn headed out the classroom door.

Erin watched the older woman. Her heart ached for Marilyn, but, although she was devastated and shaky now, Erin saw in her a deep inner strength. Marilyn hadn’t realized it was there, not yet. Soon she would discover it and draw upon the deep pool of courage. For now her thoughts were full of self-condemnation, self-deprecation and worry. From experience, Erin knew Marilyn would wallow in those for a while, but the time would come when she’d pick herself up by the bootstraps. Then that inner strength, the grit she saw in the other woman’s weary eyes, would come alive.

As if sensing Erin’s thoughts, Marilyn paused at the classroom door and turned back. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” Erin answered, regretfully. “Not even close, I’m afraid.”

Marilyn nodded, then squared her shoulders. “Don’t ever let it happen,” she advised gruffly, yet softly. “It hurts too damn much.”