An Honorable Woman

by Lindsay McKenna

  Chapter 10

  “Maybe this isn’t a business comment,” Gus told Cam in a low, intimate tone as they sat at the white-linen-draped table at Café Flor, “but you look beautiful.”

  Cam looked down at the pale lavender tank top she wore with a ballerina-length, silk skirt of the same color. Around her shoulders was a silk shawl in a deep plum. She touched the amethyst pendant at her throat and smiled. “Thanks….”

  “It’s a far cry from seeing you in that shapeless flight suit,” he mused as he picked up his glass filled with a pale chardonay wine. In the background, several men played guitars in one corner of the busy restaurant. “Here’s to R and R, Ms. Anderson.”

  Cam lifted her glass and gave Gus a shy smile. “We clean up pretty good, don’t we?” she murmured, gently touching her glass to his. Gus looked devastatingly handsome in his navy blue blazer with brass buttons, white silk shirt, paisley tie and tan slacks. He’d shaved earlier, and Cam realized the pains he’d taken getting ready for tonight. His black hair gleamed beneath the low lights overhead.

  Cam tried to stay detached, to keep her heart at bay. It had been too easy to be lulled by Gus’s quiet voice as he chatted about the day’s events on the drive down to Puerto Nuevo. She’d bitten her lower lip many times during that forty-five minute drive in his red sports car, to stop herself from asking him personal questions instead of staying on track with business only.

  “Here’s to R and R,” she agreed throatily, and took a sip of the white wine.

  A Mexican waiter, dressed in a long white apron, black slacks and a starched long-sleeved shirt with a black bow tie, came over and handed them menus with an elegant flourish.

  Cam thanked him in Spanish and so did Gus. The man beamed with pleasure. When Cam had entered the second-floor restaurant, with its huge windows facing the Pacific, she’d noticed most of the patrons were from the States. Most spoke English only. The gleam in their waiter’s eyes told her he was grateful that they spoke his language. It was a way of honoring where they were, Cam felt.

  “Well,” she told Gus wryly, glancing over the tall menu, “I really don’t think I have to look at this thing. I want lobster with all the trimmings.”

  Chuckling, he nodded and put the menu aside. “We do lobster down here a little differently than the folks in New England,” he cautioned. “It comes with soft corn tortillas on the side, rice and hearty black beans.” He smiled. “Plus a knockout salsa you can dip your lobster into.”

  “No drawn butter?”

  “Sure, if you want. Aren’t you adventurous, though?” he teased, watching her eyes grow warm with humor. “Ever had lobster tail dipped in a dynamite salsa that makes you want to smack your lips because it tastes like heaven itself?” Placing his elbows on the table, he clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them as he studied Cam’s softly glowing face. The lighting was perfect, he decided. Her thick chestnut hair was in a French braid, with strands loose across her brow. It made her look very different—younger, perhaps. Her usual C.O. mask was gone. The change in her was breathtaking and Gus hadn’t realized until just now what a chameleon Cam could be.

  “Oh, I’m adventurous, all right,” Cam said, her lips lifting wryly as she placed her menu on top of his.

  “So that’s what drew you to fly a combat aircraft?” Gus wondered out loud. He hoped she thought that was a business topic. When her brows lifted and she laughed, his heart expanded.

  “Yes. Underneath this—” she pointed to herself and the outfit she was wearing “—I’m competitive and have a deep patriotic streak in me. My parents raised us to know that we have freedom today because of the people who gave their lives, their time in the military, to make it so. I see this as paying my country back for the privilege of living in it.”

  “Never mind that you’ve spent nearly four years out of it,” he said, unclasping his hands and sipping his wine.

  Shrugging, Cam said, “What is duty? Where do we rank what’s important to us, Gus? How do we pay our share of dues for what we have?” She gazed through the windows at the cobblestone street below, saw how each stone had been lovingly laid by hand to create the roadway along the sea. The village was poor but bustling. The people who lived in Puerto Nuevo relied heavily on their American neighbors to come down, eat and put money into their coffers. Not that anyone was rich here.

  “When I look out there,” Cam told him in a hushed tone, “and see little kids five or six years old barefoot, their noses running, their hair needing to be combed, or adults wearing worn, tattered clothes, I know how lucky we are. It breaks my heart that we can’t bring all countries up to our standards.” She looked over at him. “And in Peru, it’s the same thing. I don’t take what we have in the U.S.A. as a given. We have to earn it and keep earning it.”

  Nodding, Gus said, “I understand.”

  “You would. You said you visited your mother’s people in Mexico as a child?”

  “As often as I could,” Gus said. “My father was being shipped around the world as an army pilot. I grew up mostly in the Far East and Europe, because of his assignments. My mother, bless her, was a real trooper. She taught herself German. And then, when we went to Japan, she learned Japanese. She has an amazing ear for languages and she likes learning how to fit into different societies.”

  “It shows in you,” Cam said, giving Gus a slight smile. She warmed at the look in his darkened eyes, which smoldered with an undefined emotion. Cam tried to resist that look, but Gus was too close, too appealing, and she felt irresistibly drawn to him.

  “Thank you. I think the best thing that happened to me as a kid was having the opportunity to kick around the world and learn about other cultures. I never regretted that.”

  “And what did you think of your mother’s people when you went down there and saw where she’d grown up? How did it compare to those other cultures?”

  Gus sat back and gave her a lazy smile. “I like your perceptiveness, Cam. You ask the right questions.”

  Picking up her wineglass, she murmured, “We are what we are today because of where we came from. Our roots. I’m curious how the Indian side of you integrates with the American side.”

  Grinning, Gus sipped his wine and then set the glass back on the linen tablecloth. “My mother lives in a magical world. My father lives in a black-and-white, hard-core-reality world.”

  Tilting her head, Cam said, “Interesting. So now you’ve really got my curiosity going. How do you mate magic with reality?”

  “My mother has often told me that I live with one foot in her people’s world of magic and transformation, and the other foot in my father’s world of fact. I grew up listening to stories of her people that have been passed down through generations. And my dad, when he could, would read to me at night. I grew up with stories of endless possibilities. I think that gave me the ability to see the world a little differently, or at least more broadly, than other people do.”

  Cam was caught in a spell by his deep, quiet voice, mesmerized by Gus’s ability to convey his thoughts. Understanding clearly that that was a gift of his—verbal communication—she simply absorbed his words into her heart and listened.

  “Give me an example?”

  Opening his hand, Gus said, “Okay. This game with Luis and Antonio. I see them on several levels at once. In one way, I see them as struggling through life because of the choices they’ve made along the way. On another level, a more symbolic one, which is how my mother sees the world and how she taught me to see it, they are men wrestling with authority. They are learning about authority. The question is,” Gus murmured, “what will they do with the lesson?”

  “So, you see life as lessons?”

  “I see people as teachers coming into our life, to show us something. We’re to learn from them.”

  “That’s your mother’s contribution?”

  “Yes, and it’s a good one.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t have a knee-jerk reaction to having a woman command
er?”

  “Yes.” Gus smiled slightly. “By seeing you as my teacher, I left open all possibilities. I didn’t try to catalog you, define you or put you into some convenient, labeled box as Luis and Antonio tried to do.”

  Nodding, Cam murmured, “I like that idea. That people are our teachers.”

  “That’s not to say all teachers are going to give us happy experiences,” he noted with a grin. “Pain makes us learn, too, unfortunately.”

  “But,” Cam said, sipping her wine, “if you go into the situation with an attitude that you’re going to be taught something, then you can decide whether to learn it right away or repeat it again and again until you do get it. Am I on the right track?”

  “Bingo,” Gus exclaimed. “You’re fast on the uptake.”

  “In our business you’d better be or you’re dead.”

  Laughing softly, Gus nodded. “No doubt about it.” How beautiful Cam looked in that moment, sitting there in her feminine dress, her face glowing with interest and that strength and confidence shining in her eyes. Only a person who had powerful experiences and lived to tell about them had that look.

  “Was it hard on you, going through Apache training with Luis and Antonio?” Cam asked.

  “Not really. Oh, we were the only three Latinos in the class, so we got judged, right or wrong, by that label.” Grimacing, Gus said, “But they pretended I didn’t exist, and that was fine with me. When they started sloughing off and not working to get passing grades, I really wanted to be separated from them in every way. I didn’t want the rest of the class or the IPs to think all Hispanics were lazy like they were.”

  “And so you worked twice as hard to show everyone that wasn’t so?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw your flight scores from school,” Cam said, “when I was going over your personnel jacket. You graduated at the top of your class, with a ninety-five percentile. That’s pretty impressive.”

  “I worked my butt off to prove that we weren’t all like the two spoiled rich boys,” he muttered defiantly.

  “I’m sure you succeeded,” Cam said. “I graduated with a seventy-eight. Of course, the head instructor was completely against our all-women class, and downgraded all of us. I passed. That’s all I cared about.”

  “More prejudice,” Gus murmured, shaking his head.

  “Yeah,” Cam sighed, “it’s everywhere. You’re fighting for people to respect Hispanics and their abilities, and I’m fighting a gender war.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Two peas in the same pod?”

  “I kinda like being in the same pod with you,” Gus said, looking into her eyes. Noticing that the band was playing a soft, slow tune, he said, “Want to dance?” and he rose and held out his hand.

  Seeing the startled look on Cam’s face, Gus knew this wasn’t in the playbook they’d agreed to. Asking Cam to dance was not “business.” But he couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful, radiant, desirable, and that smile of hers was driving him crazy. How many nights had he lain awake wondering what it would be like to have Cam in his arms? How she would feel?

  Holding her startled gaze, Gus gave her his best boyish smile. “All women know how to dance,” he challenged.

  Grinning broadly, Cam said, “Oh? Is that another one of those stereotypical labels?”

  “Yeah, I guess it is.” He kept his hand stretched toward her.

  Cam lifted her chin and gazed up at him, and he could see that she was in a quandary. Was it because she really didn’t like him as much as he did her? That was a crushing thought, and Gus pushed it away. A feeling that she did want to know him better warred with his other sense about Cam. She seemed, at times, to seesaw back and forth with him, as if she wondered how much intimacy was the right amount. Maybe she was unsure because she was still learning how to be a C.O. Still, his heart told him that no, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  Gulping, Cam saw that Gus wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Several other couples had moved out on the polished wood floor. “Okay…but I haven’t danced in a long time…” she murmured.

  Moving around the table, Gus pulled out her chair, then removed the shawl from her proud shoulders and draped it over the back. The small, teardrop-shaped amethyst pendant at the hollow of her throat gleamed in the low light as she turned toward him.

  “I promise not to step on your feet,” he assured her, taking her by the hand and leading her onto the floor.

  His hand was strong and warm. Cam tried to ignore the quiet strength he emanated as he turned and drew her confidently into his arms. She was tense, expecting him to grab her and press her against him. He didn’t. Looking down at her, Gus held her at a comfortable distance, one hand placed lightly at the small of her back, the other grasping her hand.

  Moving with Gus was like moonlight slipping over the surface of the dark, calm Pacific, Cam discovered. She looked up into his hooded eyes and drowned in them. She felt lost and yet secure. Scared, but happy. Wanting to run and wanting to stay. So many feelings coursed through her as they moved fluidly to the slow guitar music. Inhaling his male scent, Cam enjoyed his closeness.

  “Not bad for someone who hasn’t been on a dance floor for a long time,” he teased, leaning down near her ear and whispering the words.

  His moist, warm breath brushed her cheek, and Cam closed her eyes. Gus’s voice vibrated through her, embracing her with its husky, intimate tone. Heart expanding euphorically, Cam felt her defenses crumbling quickly as she swayed in his strong, guiding arms.

  “You make it easy for me to look like I know what I’m doing,” she said as she opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her and warmth sheeted through her. Feeling him squeeze her hand briefly, she squeezed his back. It was a bold move. The look in his eyes grew smoky, and Cam knew he desired her. The thought was enticing. Scary.

  Seeing the momentary panic in her green gaze, Gus decided to give Cam the distance she needed. “Well,” he said lightly, straightening up again, “you do the same for me up in the air. You teach me some pretty complex flight maneuvers and make it easy for me to learn from you.”

  “Maybe we’re both good teachers to one another?” Cam’s heart wouldn’t settle down. The desire she’d seen for an instant in Gus’s eyes was gone, and her panic was abating to a degree. Still, he was so incredibly masculine that she found herself wanting to lean up and kiss that cockeyed smile she’d come to love so much. At the craziest moments, Gus would give her that rakish smile and her heart would melt, and all the tension she was feeling would flow out of her. He was part little boy and part man. She’d never encountered anyone like him in her life.

  “Certainly.”

  “That just goes to prove your mother’s world view.”

  “Yes, it does. But you’re a teacher I like, and I want you to teach me everything you know, Cam.”

  Hearing the sincerity in his voice as Gus brought her around in a circle, she closed her eyes again. Oh, if only that were true! All the mistakes she’d made in the past with men were still haunting her. What had they taught her? Bitterly, Cam opened her eyes and stared past Gus’s broad shoulder. They had taught her that she consistently made bad choices. That she wasn’t seeing the men or herself properly. Turning her head, Cam looked wonderingly up at Gus. He looked down and held her gaze.

  “I see so much in your eyes, Cam. What are you thinking so hard about? I can practically feel it.”

  How easy it was to talk to Gus. For the first time in her life, Cam found that revealing her inner self to a man could be painless. “I was thinking about my past. My mistakes. My poor judgment.”

  “Oh?” he murmured, keeping his voice light as he moved her smoothly across the floor.

  Compressing her lips, Cam said, “I’ve never talked about this to anyone. I’m really ashamed, Gus….”

  Squeezing her hand gently, he said, “I can’t ever conceive of you doing something you’d be ashamed of.” Yet he could see the war in her eyes, the way her brow wrinkled. Wanting to ho
ld her, caress her and take away that pain he saw in Cam’s eyes was nearly his undoing. Still, he continued to lead her across the dance floor in rhythm with the guitar music. Right now, he could see that she wanted to entrust him with some awful secret that she was grieving over. Was this C.O. to X.O., woman to man? Unsure, he cocked his head and leaned close to her ear to say, “I’m here. I’ll listen….”

  “This is going to sound silly,” Cam told him.

  “Nothing you say will ever be silly.”

  Cam stared at his Adam’s apple. Finding the courage, she whispered, “You talk about people being your teachers, Gus. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, seeing everything from that more macrocosmic perspective. I’ve been thinking about people who have come in and out of my life. What did they teach me? What did I learn?” Cam frowned. “Or did I? Sometimes I wonder if I even knew what I was being taught. I look at some situations, especially with guys…” She shrugged painfully.

  Gus held his breath. Cam was obviously revealing something that was incredibly painful to her. Nearly losing the beat of the music, he forced himself to concentrate, worried that she’d stop.

  “Well,” Cam muttered defiantly, “I just wonder what the heck my three very bad wrecks of relationships taught me. Three men. I crashed and burned with every one of them.”

  Gently, Gus squeezed her hand. “Why do you blame yourself and not them?”

  It was a fair question, and Cam had no logical answer. Feeling the warm strength of his hand as he squeezed hers reassuringly, she shrugged. “I don’t know, Gus…. I guess I have a lot more thinking to do about it all….”

  “Relationships are a two-way street,” he agreed. “I found that out growing up and watching my parents in their marriage. It isn’t easy. It’s painful sometimes, and what I realized more than anything was that there had to be respect between the two people involved. If there wasn’t, the relationship gets railroaded and becomes a power play for one individual, disempowerment for the other. The marriage becomes a war game, with winners and losers. In a good relationship, people look at one another like team members. What do they bring to the collective table? What are their innate strengths? Their weaknesses?” Gus gazed down at Cam’s troubled expression. “In a good partnership, the people are a team, and the team operates from their strengths, not their weaknesses.”