Читать книгу The Soldier's Twin Surprise - Judy Duarte, Judy Duarte - Страница 11

Chapter Three

After Bullet—or rather, Captain Masters—walked out the door and told her he was returning to the beach house he and his friends had rented, Rickie felt an unexpected loss. She realized the best game plan and her only option was to avoid him like a bad case of mono sweeping through the barracks. So without waiting for the sun to rise, she packed her bags and checked out of the bungalow a day early.

When she reached her car, a twelve-year-old Honda she’d purchased when she first arrived on the island, she took one last look at the darkened beach house where Clay was staying. She didn’t see any lights on inside. Apparently, she was the only one who’d lost sleep over their lovemaking, and that only served to make her feel worse and more determined to escape.

Yet even though leaving now meant she could avoid Clay while here on the North Shore, there was a real possibility that she’d run into him in the future.

Which was why, when she got back to Schofield Barracks, she began to constantly scan her surroundings whenever she went to the PX or any other place where she might see him and tried to mentally prepare for an awkward meeting.

Oddly enough, when she didn’t spot him, she’d go back to her car feeling both glad and disappointed.

While Rickie worked at the clinic each day, a steady flow of soldiers came in, each one presenting different ailments and injuries that kept her busy, and she began to think she might have put it all behind her. That was, until she finally spotted Clay two weeks later.

She was in her car, preparing to cross the street from Schofield Barracks to Wheeler Airfield, where the clinic was located. While waiting for the traffic light to turn green, she noticed him up ahead, standing near the curb and talking to several other uniformed soldiers. They all bore a similarity, but she recognized Clay instantly. There was something about him, a mesmerizing swagger, that made him stand out in a crowd.

The moment he looked up and zeroed in on her car, her breath caught, her heartbeat stalled.

He turned away from the men and studied her so intently that she realized he hadn’t put that night behind him, either.

But so what? There wasn’t anything either of them could do about it now. So she gripped the steering wheel tight until the light turned green. As she drove past him, she gave a slight nod and continued on her way.

Three days later, while parking in front of the clinic to start her shift, she caught sight of him again. He was jogging along the street wearing a black T-shirt, Army-issue shorts and running shoes. Apparently, he was finishing his morning PT. She expected him to keep running, but he surprised her by turning off the path he’d been following and crossing the street to approach her car.

With his light brown hair mussed and damp with perspiration, he was a vision to behold. He’d shaved this morning, which revealed a professional side to him. A military side.

She reminded herself of his rank, of the serious consequences they’d face if their one night together turned into a second and a third. The first time they’d made love had been a mistake, a misunderstanding. But there was no way they could continue to see each other.

Yet she couldn’t keep her eyes off his sweat-dampened T-shirt, which clung to his muscular chest and his taut abs. As he closed the short distance between them, her pulse thundered, matching the cadence of his steps, and when he slowed to a stop, her heart rate darn near skidded to a complete halt.

“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” She managed to tear her gaze away from his body, but she couldn’t seem to get her pulse under control. “I’m doing okay. How ’bout you?”

“I can’t complain.” He nodded toward the clinic entrance. “So you work here, huh?”

“Yes, I do. And I assume you live nearby.”

“Yep, just a couple streets away.” He glanced to his right, and then to the left, as if checking for eavesdroppers prone to gossip or tattle. When they both realized the coast was clear, he said, “I wish things could be different.”

He’d made that same comment after they’d made love and realized they’d have to go their own ways. And she’d replayed his words a hundred times over the past couple of weeks, convincing herself that he’d meant everything he’d ever told her that night. “I wish things could have played out differently, too, but that’s just the way it is.”

He nodded his agreement, yet rather than end the conversation and go about his business, he continued to stand there, hesitant. Gorgeous. And temporarily stripped of rank in those running shorts.

“Have you already reenlisted?” he asked.

His question struck her as odd. Was he wondering if she’d decided to opt out of the military? Was he reminding her in a roundabout way that she could change her mind?

If she did, they could continue to date. Was that what he was getting at? Maybe, but she wouldn’t take that risk. The Army was her family, and if she gave it all up, hoping that something might actually come of an affair with a man she barely knew, she’d end up in worse shape than she was now. At least, emotionally.

She’d learned early on—and the hard way—that the people she cared about didn’t stick around very long, so civilian life wasn’t an option.

“No, I haven’t reupped yet, but I plan to do it soon. They’re going to give me a signing bonus.” She nodded toward the Honda that had seen better days. “Then I’ll be able to buy a new car.”

“Good for you.”

She thought so, too. Yet for some reason, as she continued to study Clay, as she remembered lying in his arms, she didn’t feel all that lucky. But she couldn’t let that sway her. There were more important things in life than momentary pleasure.

“I like being in the Army,” she added. “And I love my job.”

“That’s good. Apparently, you made a wise career choice when you enlisted. Being a medic is obviously a good fit.”

He was right. She’d scored at the top of her class while in school at AIT. And she’d been told many times that she was a top-notch medic. She thrived on being needed. And she appreciated the praise from Captain Nguyen, her commanding officer.

“I’ve wanted to work in the medical field for almost as long as I can remember,” she said. “In fact, I’m going to get a nursing degree one of these days.”

“That’s admirable. I had a childhood dream to become a soldier, like my dad.”

She smiled. “Mine started when I was a kid, too. My twin sister, Lainie, suffered from several medical problems when we were little, and I used to look after her the best I could.”

“You have a twin?”

“I used to. She died when we were nine.”

He frowned, compassion filling his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” She sighed. “It was tough. She passed away during open-heart surgery. And it was about that time that I decided to be a nurse or a doctor. I wanted to do something to help people who were sick and injured.”

“So why did you decide to join the military?” Clay asked. “You could have gone to nursing school as a civilian.”

Again his questioning took her aback. And now it was her turn to look to the left, and then to the right, checking for eavesdroppers.

There was no one around, thank goodness. But even if there were, so what? They were just having an innocent conversation.

“I took a health class in high school, which was really interesting, and that locked in my decision to have a career in the medical field. I didn’t want to take out any student loans, so I decided to join the military. My father was a retired ensign in the Navy, and he hoped that I would follow in his footsteps. But I chose the Army instead, became a medic and ended up stationed here.”

He nodded sagely, as if that answered all the questions he had about her and about...their situation.

“Well,” he said, as he glanced toward the street and the path on which he’d been running, “I guess I’d better let you get to work.”

He was giving her an out, an excuse to end their conversation. And she really ought to take it, but it still left her a little uneasy, not to mention disappointed. She’d never feel Bullet’s hands caress her again.

No, not Bullet. Captain Masters. She wasn’t even supposed to call him Clay.

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

She supposed that was a given. And their future run-ins were sure to be uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much either of them could do about that now. So she offered him what she hoped was a casual smile. “Take care.”

“Will do.” Then he turned and jogged away, leaving her to stare after him and rue all that might have been if their circumstances had only been different.

* * *

As Clay ran along the side of the road, he had a growing compulsion to look over his shoulder and catch one last glimpse of Rickie, but he forced himself to focus on the path ahead. He’d known that they’d probably see each other again, and sure enough, they had.

He could have ignored her and pretended that they’d never met, but he wouldn’t do that. He might avoid making commitments, but he wasn’t a jerk. He was respectful to his ex-lovers.

And what a lover she’d been. She had a fiery passion that had turned him inside out, and he doubted he’d experience anything like that again. He’d never been one to rate the women he’d dated, but she’d get a gold star.

She looked a lot different this morning than she had the day he’d met her, when she’d been wearing that sexy red bikini. And later that evening, when she’d been naked, lying next to him in bed.

Of course, now that they’d been intimate, he’d find her just as beautiful dressed in battle fatigues and combat boots. He had a feeling that, each time he saw her, he was going to be tempted to do more than greet her and have a friendly little chat.

And that was the problem. In the past, he’d never had any trouble moving on when a fling was coming to an end. He’d always been able to keep his hormones in check. But he wasn’t having an easy time of it now. For some weird reason, he couldn’t seem to shake off his thoughts of Rickie.

There seemed to be something different about her, something that drew him to her and made him want to challenge military protocol when it came to fraternization.

He wouldn’t cross any lines, though, even if he still had a dormant rebellious streak. When he’d been a footloose kid in Texas, it used to flare sky-high. He’d also thrived on the adrenaline rush—much to the chagrin of his mother, who’d been determined to keep him safe.

The poor woman had really flipped out when she learned he’d been accepted for admission at West Point. But what had she expected from a kid who’d grown up idolizing his late father, a decorated war hero who was still held in the highest esteem by everyone back home?

You’d think she would’ve been proud that Clay had decided to become an Army officer, but she’d cried for days, sure he’d be sent off to war and would die in battle, like his father had.

He’d told her that he understood her worries, but he felt a strong conviction to serve.

“There are lots of ways you can help people. You could be a doctor or a fireman or a teacher.”

“Most mothers would be proud that their kid was accepted at West Point.”

“I am, honey, but why couldn’t you have gone to Texas A&M?” she’d asked. “That way, you would have been close to home. Then, after graduating with some kind of an agriculture degree, you could have helped your granddad and me on the ranch.”

But Clay had never wanted to be a rancher.

Even his wild, fun-loving friends had followed his lead and turned onto a straight and narrow path. Duck was now a champion bronc rider, determined to help the Rocking Chair Rodeo promote a ranch for retired cowboys, as well as Kidville, a nearby group home for kids. And Poncho had become a cop who did his best to keep the town of Wexler safe.