He gave her an amused glance as they left the walk and headed toward the rows of parked vehicles. “Sure you can.”
Her lips thinned. She jerked her elbow from his hand, pulling to a halt. “This isn’t a date we’re going on, Lieutenant. I was assigned to DEA to interface between narc and the Coast Guard. You’re my boss.”
Noah threw his hands on his hips. Damn, but she was a contrary person! “That’s right, I am. And a little civility is in order. You’ve been in those trenches too long.”
Stung, Kit glared up at him. Her stomach began to knot again. “Now look, Trayhern, you can cut out the flirting act right now. I’ve got five tough years behind me in that drug jungle they call Dade County. I handled it, and I can handle you and this new assignment they threw at me. Keep your distance, be professional, and we’ll get along.”
Cocking his head, Noah studied her, gauging the fervent tone of her voice. The fire in her gray eyes interested him. “You think I’m flirting with you?” Her quicksilver temper intrigued him, and he liked her boldness and honesty. Of course professional conduct must rule. For just a moment he sensed the potential danger in letting himself think of Kit Anderson as a woman.
Kit gave him a flat look. “If the shoe fits, wear it.”
“You are attractive,” Noah admitted, “but I didn’t ask to call you by your first name because I was flirting.”
She watched him wearily. “We might as well get the rest of this settled right now.”
“What else is eating at you?”
“Not me. You. I’m a woman being dropped into a ‘man’s job,’ and I don’t want to put up with chauvinism from you or your crew. I’m a police officer, Lieutenant Trayhern. A damn good one. You give me orders and I’ll carry them out—or die trying. It makes no difference whether I’m male or female—I’ll do the job for you.”
Anger lurked beneath the surface in Noah and it came out in his voice. “You always spit bullets, Anderson?”
“Only when I’m fired upon.”
“Are you always this tough?”
“When I have to be.”
“I’m trying to patch things up between us, and you keep insisting on destroying my attempts.”
Kit resisted the warmth in his eyes. She set her jaw, flashing him a dark look. “Then be honest. You didn’t expect a woman on this assignment.”
“Hell, no, I didn’t!” Noah compressed his lips into a single line. “I got a file with ‘K. Anderson’ on the label. I assumed you were a man.” He searched her upturned face. He was a good judge of people, and he sensed she was emotionally exhausted, though she kept it well hidden. “When your superior, Cordeman, called earlier, all he said was that you had one hell of an impressive record. He neglected to tell me you were a woman.”
Touching her brow, Kit struggled with the rawness she felt. “Look, there’s no way out of this assignment for us,” she muttered. “If I could, I’d go back to Chuck Cordeman and ask for a transfer. But I’m the only one who can identify Jose Garcia.” She raised her eyes, holding his hard stare. “Whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay. Maybe you can request a change of orders. Maybe there’s another cutter captain who’d have less hostility about working with a woman.”
Noah took off his hat, running his fingers through his military-short black hair. He settled the cap back on his head. “I wish the hell I could,” he growled, glancing down at her. “But I’m just as stuck in this assignment as you are.” If he requested a change because he didn’t want to work with a woman, his career would be down the drain, and he knew it. “We’re both going to have to bite the bullet on this one, Detective.”
“Okay.” Kit closed her eyes, feeling dizziness overwhelm her momentarily. She placed her feet slightly apart to steady herself. Chuck had thought this would be a plush, easy assignment. He’d been wrong. She didn’t have the strength to be hard and tough with Noah Trayhern. That was an act she put on when undercover. In real life she wasn’t anything like that. In real life the trauma of her undercover life had brought her close to an emotional breakdown. Kit knew she needed time to heal, but Lieutenant Trayhern wasn’t going to give it to her. He was looking at her as if she were a noose around his neck.
“Come on,” Noah muttered, “let’s go to lunch.”
“You’re hungry?”
“No. But I need a drink.”
Chapter Two
Kit felt more at ease in the darkened surroundings of the restaurant with Noah at her left elbow. She gave him a curious look after he ordered his drink.
“Did you purposely choose a corner where we could sit with our backs against the wall?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s a good defensive position.”
Noah gave her a keen look. “I see your back’s to the wall. Do you find that preferable?”
“Of course,” she confirmed. “Walls can’t sneak up behind you and slide a knife between your ribs or fire at you when you aren’t looking.” Kit noticed Noah’s hands. His fingers were long and capable looking. She could imagine him at the helm of a tall, four-masted sailing ship instead of a modern-day Coast Guard cutter.
“Why don’t you just sit back and relax instead of eyeballing everyone who walks through that door? This is a restaurant, not a dive where drugs are being exchanged under the table.”
“I’ve survived five years because I’m alert, Lieutenant. I’m not about to drop my guard just because you’re with me.”
Noah clamped down on a rejoinder. The waitress delivered his drink and Kit’s large glass of milk.
Kit took a gulp of it, hoping it would quell her screaming stomach.
“Milk?” Noah goaded, eyeing the glass she clutched between her hands.
“Why not?” Kit asked defensively. “Do you have a problem with me drinking milk instead of liquor?”
Noah’s mouth tightened momentarily as he held her stare. “No. But it could mean you have stomach ulcers. Do you?”
Her composure ruffled as Noah’s open expression suddenly slid beneath an unreadable mask. It shook Kit, and her street instincts took over. Here was a man who could be generous, she suspected. Yet he wasn’t to be trifled with, her gut warned. “It doesn’t matter why I drink milk, Lieutenant. As long as I do my job, you shouldn’t care what I eat, drink or do within reasonable limits.”
Noah gave her a cutting smile. “Look, Detective Anderson, I don’t know how Chuck Cordeman treated you, but I consider the people aboard the cutter my extended family. I try to treat each person the way I would want to be treated.”
“So far that quaint rule of conduct doesn’t apply to me, does it?”
He throttled his mounting anger toward her. Noah knew she was right. “I’m applying it right now. I’m concerned about the state of your health.”
Kit shook her head. “My drinking milk isn’t the real issue. Since when does an officer get friendly with the people beneath him? You and I both know there’s a forbidden zone there. The military has a hierarchy just like the one over at the police department.”
“You do have a perverse attitude, don’t you?” Noah ground out.
Kit glared at him. “And you really get under my skin, Lieutenant.” She took another swallow of the soothing milk. Licking her lips, she continued. “I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire life, and I’ve met some real winners.”
In that instant Noah saw her tough street mask slip. “Do you ever smile?” he asked suddenly.
Kit jerked her head up. “What?”
Noah gave her a calculating look. “What the hell have they done to you, Kit, to make you so damned paranoid?”
The words, holding a hint of genuine tenderness, drove deeply into Kit’s walled, aching heart. She blinked once, feeling the rush of hot tears. Noah’s concerned face blurred before her. This time he wasn’t acting. This was the real man beneath the hardened facade of the officer. Care was a foreign word to her. No one cared for her but herself. Her lips parted in response and she sat frozen beneat
h his searching gaze, suddenly overwhelmed by the human side of Noah Trayhern. Bowing her head, she fought against the tears, willing them away.
“No you don’t,” he growled, gently capturing her nearest hand and placing a handkerchief in it. “It’s not a crime to cry, you know.”
Kit shoved the handkerchief back across the table. “I’m not going to break down like some soap opera character. Women don’t always cry at the drop of a hat.”
“I’m not going to answer your sarcasm, Kit. How long has it been since you last cried?”
Her eyes clouded with pain as she looked up at him. “Stop it!” she whispered, wanting to escape. At the tenderness burning in his eyes she rasped, “Cut the pity. There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“Care is not pity,” Noah grated out. He sat back grimly, watching her struggle with the deluge of emotions he’d unwittingly triggered in her. Stunned that he was drawn to her, he could say nothing. Kit Anderson touched him on so many levels that words escaped him, and silence hovered heavily between them.
Kit found it sheer agony to sit through lunch with Noah Trayhern. She ate little, her fingers visibly trembling as she lifted the glass to finish her milk. Occasionally she would catch him staring at her, sadness evident in his green eyes. Finally she could stand it no longer. After the waitress had cleared away the dishes, Kit placed both hands on the table and faced him squarely.
“Look, Lieutenant Trayhern, I know you must think I’m some kind of—”
“First,” he interrupted sharply, “you’re a woman, something the narc division conveniently overlooked. They’ve used you up and abused your qualities. You’ve been sucked dry emotionally.” Noah’s mouth became grim as he held her embarrassed gray eyes. “I’m not the new boy on the block when it comes to the drug world,” he reminded her tersely. “I’ve been up to my neck in it since 1970. I’m one of two skippers who command the Bell Halter Surface Effect Ship. I interface with Drug Enforcement Agency headquarters, DEA agents in South America, the FBI, the CIA and local authorities to help halt drug trafficking. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of agents come and go in the past five years, and I know the narc type. I also know what working this dirty business has done to them.” His voice deepened. “You’ve got ulcers, your hands tremble and you expect danger when there’s nothing to fear.”
Kit sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if he’d glimpsed secret places in her that no one else suspected. Shakily she started to rise, but Trayhern gripped her arm, and she sank back down again.
“No,” he ordered quietly. “First things first.” His green eyes bore into hers. “You’re taking a week off, Kit. Go home and get some sleep. And I mean deep, uninterrupted sleep. Lie in the sun. Learn how to relax. Consider this a minivacation in order to pull yourself back together again.”
She sat stiffly, unable to speak. Who was this man? He’d just probed her from top to bottom and discovered a truth she’d been avoiding for a long time. Drawing in a ragged breath, Kit became achingly aware of him as he released the grip on her arm. “And then?” she rasped, looking up into his face. Noah’s eyes glittered with anger and a frown creased his forehead. He was angry with her, she thought in confusion, and disappointed.
“I’ll call you sometime next week and we’ll go over the details of your new job. We’ll begin your integration into my unit slowly, provided we’re given the time.”
“I’ve never failed any assignment I’ve undertaken.”
His mouth tightened, as if he were experiencing her pain. “That’s not what’s at stake here, Kit,” he countered less harshly.
“Then what is?”
Noah’s eyes softened momentarily. “You.” He got to his feet. “Come on,” he coaxed, “I’m taking you home. You need the rest.” And then he added to himself, I need time to think this thing through. Maybe when he got back to the office, he could objectively evaluate Kit Anderson, her role and their assignment with each other. Like it or not, Noah had to acknowledge how powerfully he was drawn to her.
Noah had no sooner gotten back to his desk at headquarters than the phone rang. Muttering an oath under his breath, he picked it up.
“Coast Guard Headquarters, Lieutenant Trayhern speaking.”
“Noah?”
He sat down. “Aly?” It was his younger sister, Alyssa, and she sounded depressed.
“I’m sorry to call you at work, Noah, but I just needed to hear a friendly voice.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Thank God for our family,” Aly said fervently.
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. The Trayherns were as tight as a family could get. They had to be. Since the events of 1970, Noah had watched his own blossoming military career go sour. Alyssa, who’d just entered the naval academy in 1970, had been given the silent treatment. Now she was in flight school at Pensacola, in northwestern Florida. “So how’s it going, ace? Are you flying the wings off those planes up there?”
Aly’s voice was low. “I’m trying to, Noah.”
He gripped the phone a little tighter. “Pretty bad?”
“Yeah, really bad. God, Noah, I’m getting the silent treatment from the students all over again. I’ve got one instructor who does nothing but scream at me for an hour in the cockpit. He’s trying to wash me out, make me quit. I—I don’t know if I can hold it together….”
His throat tightened. “Hang in there, Aly. The Trayherns are made of tough stuff. We’ve got a two-hundred-year family military tradition to uphold. There’s too much riding on both our shoulders to let go of that honor.”
“I’m getting tired, Noah. And I didn’t want to tell Mom or Dad what’s happening here at Pensacola. They worry too much about us, anyway.”
Noah tried to smile. “I’m glad you called. Any chance you might cut free for a weekend soon and visit me? Getting away from the name-calling and stares might help.”
“That would be wonderful, Noah. I really need a break. And I know Mom and Dad would die if they saw me right now. You know how they expect a monthly visit from each of us. I have dark circles under my eyes and I’ve lost a lot of weight since starting the flight program. These instructors really want me out, Noah. They want to disgrace me in retaliation for Morgan.”
“I know,” he said softly, hurting for her. “Look, you get down here at the first opportunity, okay? My house has two guest bedrooms, and one of them has your name on it.”
Alyssa’s tone was strained. “Thanks, big brother. I owe you one. I’ll drop in to see you just as soon as I can.”
“Do that, Aly.”
“How are things with you? Are they still putting pressure on you?”
Noah managed a choked laugh. “Yeah, same old stuff.” And then he told her about Detective Anderson and his latest assignment.
“Maybe this week off will get her in shape to be an asset instead of a problem for you,” Aly offered.
Rubbing his face, Noah said, “God, I hope so. If she screws up, my career will be torpedoed. I fought so damned hard to get this SES billet. And now I’ve got a woman with a chip on her shoulder toward men.”
“Just turn on some of that famous Noah Trayhern charm and she’ll come around. I know she will.”
He closed his eyes, buoyed by Aly’s teasing warmth. “I hope you’re right. I’m going over to her house on Friday and lay out the basic assignment to her.”
“She’ll be fine by then.”
“Oh? You a psychic now?” he asked, chuckling.
“I’ve got a good feeling about her, Noah. Don’t know why, but I just do. You’ll know Friday for sure….”
There was no answer at Kit Anderson’s bungalow door. Noah stood and listened, then rang the bell again. He’d tried to call earlier, but there’d been no response. Walking around the stucco one-story home, he spotted a high-walled wooden fence. Maybe she was in back, getting that suntan. Taking a chance, he opened the gate and moved quietly inside the closure.
Over the past few days Noah had tried to reconcile himself to the f
act that Kit Anderson was going to be a part of his hardworking crew. Although still unconvinced that assigning a woman to this project was a good idea, Noah realized he’d treated her poorly upon first meeting her, and owed her an apology. Getting off on the wrong foot was no help to either of them. Gazing across the lawn, he spotted Kit in a lavender bathing suit, lying on a chaise lounge. His hand tightened automatically around the briefcase he carried.
The late-morning sun had lulled Kit into a twilight of peace. Fragrant oleanders ringed the yard, scenting the late-morning air. Idly she ran her fingers across her lower arm, amazed at how deeply tanned she had become. Closing her eyes again, Kit enjoyed the call of the birds that made their homes in those ten-foot-high flowery bushes. In the years she had spent living at night, she’d missed their melodic songs.
Her languor ended at the sound of approaching footsteps. Instantly alert, Kit jerked into a sitting position, on guard. Noah Trayhern looked devastatingly handsome in his light blue shirt and dark blue slacks and garrison cap. He carried a briefcase in his left hand. Kit searched his face for signs of anger but saw none.
“I called earlier, but there wasn’t any answer,” Noah offered. “I thought I’d take a chance you might be back here.” She looked slim and elegant in the revealing bathing suit. Puzzled as to why he hadn’t realized how pretty Kit really was, Noah realized she was no longer in the baggy clothes that hid her innate femininity. His heart thudded hard in his chest, and he felt that familiar stirring that was beginning to seem inevitable whenever her name or face came to mind. And that had been often. Too damned often.
Kit lowered her lashes, hotly aware of a strange intensity to his inspection of her. She reached for her light blue beach jacket, quickly shrugging it across her shoulders. “It’s better to get a tan in the morning,” she said. Tying the sash, Kit stood. “I thought you’d conveniently forgotten about me.”
Noah managed a crooked smile. “I had that coming, didn’t I?”
Nervous beneath his continued stare, she crossed her arms. “Yes, you did.”
A Question of Honor Page 2
