Debbie Macomber Navy Series Box Set

Chapter 4

Lindy slept on the davenport across from Rush, but the sweet luxury of oblivion escaped him. Even now, hours later, he couldn’t forget the unselfconscious way she’d wrapped her arms around him and held him, her tears soaking through his shirt. Rush wasn’t sure who she was crying for anymore: him or her. It didn’t matter.

Her body felt unbelievably good against his own, and her warmth had chased away the arctic chill that had seemed to cut all the way through to the marrow of his bones. He didn’t like to think about Cheryl and rarely did these days. But somehow being a witness to Lindy’s anguish had brought the memory of his own bobbing uncontrollably to the surface of his mind. Like a cork, the remembrance of his love and foolishness had refused to sink, and he’d been left to deal with the pain that had suddenly seemed as fresh and real as it had been eight years ago.

The memory of Cheryl had weighed on him like a steel cloak, tormenting his heart and mind. He’d loved her with a love that was pure and innocent. A love so rare that he never hoped to feel such deep, heart-wrenching emotion again. Leaving her to go to sea had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Every day of the tour he’d written to her, spilling out his heart. On payday he’d sent her every penny he could, living on a bare minimum himself because it was important to him that she have the things she needed.

When he’d reached home port, he couldn’t get off the aircraft carrier fast enough. After six months at sea, he was dying to hold her again, dying to love her. But she hadn’t been at the dock. Bitterly disappointed, the only thing Rush could reason was that she was ill. Well, he’d been partially right. Only her sickness was of the nine-month variety. From what he’d learned later, sweet innocent Cheryl had shacked up with another sailor a week after he’d left San Diego. She’d apparently hoped to pass the baby off as Rush’s. Rush, however, hadn’t needed a degree in math to calculate the dates.

It might have made things easier for him if they’d fought. He might have been able to release some of the bitter anguish he’d experienced over her infidelity. But instead he’d simply told her goodbye and walked away, the diamond engagement ring he’d intended to give her seeming to sear a hole through his palm.

In the weeks and months that followed, his mind played crazy tricks on him. He tried to convince himself the baby was his, although God knows it was impossible. He heard from a friend that Cheryl married some poor schmuck fresh out of officer training within a month after Rush had left her.

A couple of years later he’d run into her in a bar. Her big blue eyes had clouded with tears as she’d told him they’d let something good slip away. With a wedding band on her finger, she’d placed her hand high on his thigh and suggested they get together for old times’ sake. Rush had thought he was going to vomit, she repulsed him so completely.

He never saw her again, never wanted to. Cheryl had taught him valuable lessons, ones destined to last a lifetime. She’d destroyed a part of him that could never be resurrected.

The first faint light of dawn seeped into the sky, extinguishing the stars one by one, and still Rush couldn’t sleep. But the even meter of Lindy’s breathing as she lay sleeping on the sofa was a soothing balm and gradually he felt the rigid tension leave his limbs.

They’d sat for hours, his arm around her, her head nestled over his heart. Neither had spoken—or wanted to. It was a time to remember. A time to forget. When she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, he’d gently slipped free of her hold and lowered her head onto the sofa.

She was going to be all right now.

So was he.

* * *

Lindy squinted as the sun flooded the living room and seemed to rest, full force, on her face, disturbing her deep sleep. Her neck ached, and it was then that she realized that her only pillow had been the small flat decorative one from the couch. She felt disoriented until the memory of what had happened between her and Rush gushed through her mind like melting snow rushing down a mountainside during a spring thaw. She groaned and covered her face with her hands, embarrassed anew.

Slowly, almost against her will, she sat up and opened her eyes. She felt empty inside, depleted. Shaky.

A quick survey of the room told her Rush wasn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, and she sighed with relief.

Coming to her feet, she brushed the mussed dark hair away from her face and stumbled into the kitchen. The coffee was made and a note propped against the base of the machine. Lindy reached for the slip of paper and blinked several times in an effort to clear her vision. Rush had duty and wouldn’t be home until late afternoon.

Thank God.

She wasn’t up to confronting him. Not now, anyway. What could she possibly say to him after she’d stripped herself emotionally naked and exposed her soul? Lord, she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out later. Right now she wanted a hot bath and some breakfast, in that order.

By five that afternoon, she’d washed windows, baked a fresh apple pie and scrubbed the shower. Occupying herself with a dozen domestic tasks until she was forced into the inevitable confrontation with Rush.

She was frying pork chops for dinner when she heard the front door open, and she tensed, instantly filled with dread.

An awkward silence ensued when he stepped into the kitchen. Since she wasn’t sure how to begin, she glanced around nervously and offered him a falsely cheerful smile.

Rush was frowning and she watched as his gaze bounced around the apartment, growing darker and more irritated with each passing moment.

Despite her best efforts, Lindy felt completely unstrung, and still Rush just stood there, looking straight through her with those impassive blue eyes of his.

“I baked a pie.” It was an absurd thing to say, but Lindy was quickly losing a grip on her determination to be cheerful and pleasant.

“That’s not what I smell.”

Lindy saw him wrinkle up his nose a couple of times, sniffing. “What are you?” she asked, forcing a light laugh. “A bloodhound?”

Obstinately Rush refused to respond to her attempt at good humor. If anything, his face grew more marred by dark shadows and anger kindled in his eyes. “It smells like pine needles in here.”

“Oh.” Why, oh why, couldn’t he play her game? He had to know how difficult all this was for her. “I scrubbed down the cupboards. I think I was supposed to dilute the cleaner more than I did.”

Her back was braced against the counter, her fingers gripping the edge. She could feel a pulse come alive in her temple. She’d had all day to make up her mind what she was going to say to Rush, how she was going to act, but her conclusions had been vague and fearful. That was when she’d decided she wouldn’t utter a word about what had happened, praying he wouldn’t, either. She should have realized Rush wouldn’t let her forget it.

“You’ve been busy.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I decided to spruce up the place a bit.”

Her efforts didn’t appear to please him. Damn, but she wished he’d say or do something to help her. He had to know what she was going through.

“You said something about pork chops being your favorite dinner,” she offered next, almost desperate. All the while, her eyes pleaded with him. She’d just found her footing with this man, and now she was floundering again, her feet slipping out from under her every which way she turned.

“That was thoughtful.” Still he frowned, his brow crowding his eyes, darkening them all the more.

Lindy rushed to the stove and used a cooking fork to turn the sizzling meat. She dared not look at him, and when she spoke the words strangled her. “I wanted to thank you, I guess.”

“For what?”

Obviously Rush wasn’t going to exert the least bit of energy to help her. The stoic look of the wooden Indian was properly in place once more and she wanted to hate him for his ability to disguise his emotions so effortlessly.

“Lindy.”

She ignored him, flipping the frying meat when it was totally unnecessary.

“Lindy, turn around and look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Those pork chops are going to turn into rubber if you cook them much longer.”

Forcefully she turned off the burner and slapped the cooking fork on the stove top. “I could hate you for this,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

“Well don’t, because it isn’t any easier for me.”

Her chest was heaving with indignation when she slowly turned so that they faced each other once more. Nothing about him said he was the least bit uncomfortable. They could have been discussing the weather for all the reaction Rush revealed.

“Well?” she demanded, not having a single clue as to what he was thinking. He wore the hard mask of disciplined self-control, and she longed to slap it from his face.

“I’m embarrassed, too,” he admitted finally.

“You? Whatever for? I was the one who made a complete idiot of myself. I was the one who was wailing like a banshee.” She whipped the hair from her face. “What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?”

He looked as if he were going to answer her, but Lindy wasn’t about to let him. An entire day of worry and frustration was banked against her fragile control.

“Why couldn’t you have let it drop?” she continued. “Trust me, I was willing to forget the entire incident. But, oh no, Mister Know-It-All has to rub my nose in it.”

The muscle in his clenched jaw leaped so hard his temple quivered, and a strange light flared in his eyes. “I didn’t want any pretense between us.”

Defiance and pride filled Lindy’s breast and her long nails threatened to snap as she continued to grip the countertop behind her. “I don’t, either,” she whispered after a moment, willing now to release her resentment and accept the wisdom of his words.

“I’d like us to be friends.”

She nodded, dropping her gaze to the freshly waxed kitchen floor. “Lord knows, I could use one.”

He smiled at that, and when she glanced up she noted that his eyes had softened perceptibly.

“How did you know apple pie is my favorite?”

Relaxing, Lindy returned his smile. “A fine naval officer like you should know the answer to that. Apple pie has to rank right up there with hot dogs and the American flag.”

They both laughed aloud then, but not because she’d been especially clever. The matter had been settled between them and they were on an even keel once more. They could be friends.

* * *

“Well, how do I look?” Lindy asked Rush Monday morning. She stood beside the kitchen table, where he sat reading the paper and drinking coffee. Her interview wasn’t scheduled until noon, but she’d been dressed and ready since eight, pacing the living room. Lord, he swore she’d straightened the same stack of magazines ten times.

“You’re going to do great.”

“You didn’t even look at me,” she accused, her hands clenched together in front of her. She was a picture of efficiency in her dark blue business suit, white blouse and navy pumps. If it were up to him, he would hire her on the spot.

“You look wonderful,” he said, meaning it. Too damn good for his own peace of mind, if the truth be known.

She checked her wristwatch and nibbled nervously on the corner of her bottom lip. “I think I’ll leave now.”

“Good idea.” To be truthful, he’d be glad to have her out of the apartment. But not because she was making a nuisance of herself. Oh sure, her pacing was beginning to get on his nerves, but far more profound than that—Lindy was beginning to get to him. Bad.

She reached for her purse. “I’ll see you later.”

“Break a leg, kid.”

“Thanks.”

Her quick smile ate like a sweet-tasting acid all the way through him. He’d been a fool to think their nonrelationship would fall neatly back into place after Friday night. He’d been a first-class idiot to believe they could just be friends. Oh, they were that all right, but God knew he hungered for more. Much more.

Rush’s breath escaped on a long, disgusted sigh as he pushed his coffee cup aside. Every time he looked at Lindy his body started to throb. It wasn’t even funny. In fact it was downright embarrassing.

He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest, trying to reason matters out. Lindy was years younger than he. Ten, at least. And she’d been hurt, the pain much too fresh for her to trust her feelings. To further complicate the situation, she was Steve Kyle’s little sister. Rush might be able to overlook the first stickler, but not the second or the third. Lindy was too vulnerable now, too susceptible. And Steve Kyle was much too good a friend to lose because Rush couldn’t maintain his self-control.

Lord, he wished she’d get that damn job and move out of the apartment. And out of his life. Once she’d cleared out, maybe things would go back to normal and he could concentrate on matters that were important to him.

That wasn’t true, Rush admitted even as he thought it. He liked having Lindy around, liked her being there when he came in after a frustrating day aboard the Mitchell. Liked talking to her in the evenings. That was the problem in a nutshell. He liked every damn thing there was about Lindy Kyle.

Rush was mature enough, disciplined enough, to ignore the physical attraction, although God knows it was difficult. A thousand times he’d cursed the memory of that morning when he had found her in the bathroom, and seen her all soft and feminine. His mental picture of the way her breasts had peeped out at him, firm and round and proud, had the power, even now, to eat a hole straight through his mind. For his own sense of well-being he couldn’t allow his thoughts to dwell on how good she’d felt in his arms, or how she’d fallen asleep with her head resting securely over his heart. Nor did he choose to think about how he’d sat and stroked her hair, drinking in her softness, marveling in her gentleness.

Lindy’s allure, however, was much more profound than the physical. In the space of one week she’d managed to reach into his heart, dragging the emotion out of him like hidden scarves from the sleeves of a clown. Each one more colorful than the last. Each one a surprise. Lindy made him feel vulnerable, threatening him in ways he’d never expected to experience again.

He wanted to stay away from her, avoid her as he had in the beginning. But Lindy was like a magnetic field that drew everything to itself. He couldn’t be anywhere near her and not want her. Physically. Emotionally. Every damn way there was to want a woman.

He stood then, determined not to think about her anymore. A cold shower was what he needed to wake him up to a few fundamental facts. He wasn’t an inexperienced youth, unable to control himself. Rush had been around the block more times than he cared to count.

With a fresh set of clothes, he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. He hesitated, closed his eyes and slumped against the side of the sink. Inhaling the faint flower scent of Lindy’s perfume, he released a groan that came from deep within his chest. The fragrance wove its way around him like an early morning mist, tempting him, enticing him, reminding him of everything he swore he was going to forget.

With his jaw knotted so tight his teeth hurt, Rush reached for the shower dial and turned it on full force. Grimly he wondered how much cold water it would take to distract him from the ache in his groin.

* * *

“Rush.” Lindy threw open the front door of the apartment. “I got the job.” Filled with joyous excitement, she tossed her purse aside and whirled around the living room like a ballerina, her arms clenched tightly over her breasts.

She was so dizzy she nearly stumbled, but she didn’t care. Breathless and laughing, she stopped and braced her hand along the back of the sofa. “Oh, come on, Rush, you’ve got to be home!”

A quick check of the rooms told her he wasn’t. The minute she’d been free, Lindy had hurried out of the Boeing offices, dying to tell Rush that the job was hers. The money was great. More than great. Wonderful. Health insurance, paid vacations, sick leave. And ten days off at Christmas. The whole nine yards—or was that ten? She didn’t know. What she did know was that this wonderful, fabulous job was hers.

She couldn’t have asked for a better position. The woman who would be her supervisor had taken Lindy around to meet her co-workers and everyone had been so nice, so friendly. Lindy had known almost immediately that she was going to fit right in.

“Rush,” she called out again, in case she’d missed him somehow.

His name fell emptily into the silence. Oh well, he’d hear her good news soon enough. She went into her bedroom and changed into jeans and a soft pink ten-button Henley shirt, pushing the three-quarter length sleeves up past her elbows. She reached for her purse and as an afterthought scribbled Rush a note that said she was going out to buy thick T-bones, and when she got back they would celebrate.

By the time Lindy returned from the Pike Place Market, Rush was on the lanai and the barbecue was smoking.

“Hi,” she called out, and set the grocery bag on the counter. “I got the job.”

“I didn’t doubt for a minute that you would.”

Rush looked wonderfully relaxed in casual slacks and a light blue sweater that set off the color of his eyes to a clear cornflower blue. The sun glinted through his dark hair, and when he turned to smile at her, his face fairly danced with happy mischief, as if he’d known all along she’d do well and was as pleased as she that she had gotten the job. And exceedingly proud.

“Well, you might have shared some of that confidence with me,” Lindy told him with mock disgust. “In case you didn’t notice, I was a wreck this morning. Imagine leaving two hours before an interview.” She could chide herself about it now, but she’d felt as if an army of red ants had decided to use her stomach as a place to dig their farm.

“I was confident enough to buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate,” he informed her, moving into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He brought out the bottle and set it on the counter with all the ceremony and flair of a wine steward.

“Oh Rush, we can’t drink this,” she whispered, reverently examining the bottle. This wasn’t the normal cheap champagne Lindy was used to drinking at Christmastime, but an expensive French variety, decorated with a gold seal and a fancy blue ribbon.

“Why not?” His brows shot up.

“It’s too good…. I mean, I can’t even pronounce the name of it.” She tried, her tongue stumbling over the French vowels. In high school she’d taken a couple of years of the language, but she could never be considered fluent.

“You can’t say champagne?” His voice dipped with sarcasm while tiny pinpricks of light shimmered in the depths of his eyes.

“Oh stop. You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

Already he’d peeled away the decorative top foil. “If anyone has reason to celebrate, it’s you.”

Lindy sighed and nodded, utterly content. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”

“You don’t need to,” he teased. “Anyone within a five-block radius could feel your happiness.” His gaze held hers briefly before he dragged it away and started working to remove the cork.

Lindy felt strangely breathless and dizzy with joy. She was truly happy, when only a few weeks before she’d doubted that she’d ever experience elation or excitement again. Now she felt as though destiny had finally caught up with her again, and she was riding the crest of a wave, surging ahead, grabbing at every good thing that came her way. And lately, since she’d met Rush, there seemed to be so much to feel good about.

The sound of the cork popping and the bubbly liquid spraying into the sink caused Lindy to gasp, then giggle.

“Here, here,” she cried, handing Rush one of the tall narrow glasses he’d set out. She didn’t want any of this precious liquid to be wasted. God only knew how much Rush had paid for the bottle.

“A toast,” Rush said, handing her a glass and taking his own. Tiny golden bubbles popped to the surface as if to add their own congratulations. “To Lindy Kyle, computer expert,” Rush murmured, completely serious.

“I’m not really an expert.”

“Are you always this argumentative, woman?”

“All right, all right,” she laughed and licked the moisture from her fingertips. “IBM owes everything to me. Mr. Wang himself calls me his friend.” Her eyes were laughing, her joy and enthusiasm exuding with every breath, because it was impossible to contain them.

“Mr. Wang?” Rush asked her. “What about Mr. Callaghan? Is he your friend?”

“Oh most assuredly. The very best kind there is.”

“Good.”

Lindy thought his voice sounded slightly husky, pleased, but before she had time to analyze it or study him further, Rush poised his glass next to hers. Gently they tapped the delicate rims together and Lindy tasted a sample. The smooth liquid was wonderfully light and mellow and so delicious that she closed her eyes to properly savor it.

“This is marvelous stuff,” she said, taking another sip.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I bought us steaks,” she said, suddenly remembering the sack. “And enough vegetables to open our own fifty-item salad bar.”

Rush chuckled. “You get the salad together and I’ll manage the steaks.”

“That sounds like a workable plan.”

“Good grief,” he chided, unwrapping the thick T-bones from the white butcher paper. “You’re already using office lingo.”

Lindy resisted the urge to swat his backside as he returned to the lanai, and turned her attention to the variety of fresh vegetables for the salad.

She finished before Rush did, and taking her champagne glass with her, joined him outside. It had rained for part of the week, but the sun was out this afternoon and the breeze was fresh and clean.

“The coals aren’t quite hot enough yet,” he told her, leaning against the wrought-iron railing, looking at ease with himself and his world.

Perhaps it was the champagne or the fact she’d stood too long in the sun. Lindy wasn’t sure which to blame. But standing beside Rush she suddenly felt the overwhelming need to have him kiss her, the overpowering desire to glide her moist lips back and forth over his and taste the champagne on his tongue.

“Lindy?” He was frowning at her, and for a moment she was sure he’d read her thoughts. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head for emphasis, pushing down the impulse. It was insane, stupid, wrong. And yet something kept driving her. Something primitive and completely unmanageable. Before she could change her mind, she took both their wineglasses and set them aside, her hands shaking.

Rush watched her like a man in a trance.

She leaned forward and planted her hands on his shoulders, her intense gaze holding his.

At her touch, she felt a quiver work its way through his lean, hard body. He stiffened, his shoulders at attention as though a visiting admiral were passing by for inspection. But still he didn’t try to stop her, didn’t gently push her away as she thought he might. His hands bunched into tight fists at his sides.

Filled with purpose, and more determined than she had been about anything in a long time, Lindy stood on tiptoe and briefly touched her lips to his.

It was better than she’d thought, better than she’d dreamed. She cocked her head so their noses wouldn’t present a barrier and kissed him again. Lightly. Tentatively. Shyly.

Rush stood stiff and motionless, but a low moan slipped from deep within his throat. His dark eyebrows cramped his piercing blue eyes, and he glared at her. If he hoped to intimidate her with a look, he failed. Lindy felt incredibly brave, ready to take on a fully armed armada if need be. Surely managing one weary sailor wouldn’t be so difficult.

Rush closed his eyes then opened them, searching her face, his look tormented. He seemed to be telling Lindy to stop. Begging her to move away from him because he hadn’t the will to move himself. But Lindy had no intention of following his silent demand. None. Instead she smiled boldly up at him, her heart in her eyes.

Rush claimed her lips then, and groaned anew as if holding her were the last thing in the world he wanted to do. His mouth clung to hers, warm and demanding as his tongue plundered the dark, sweet secret of her mouth, taking all that she offered.

His hands pulled her tight against him and he continued to kiss her again and again until she was flushed and trembling and her blood felt as if it could boil.

“Oh God, Lindy. No. No. This isn’t right.” His voice was tortured and barely audible. But still he didn’t release her.