Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

by Debbie Macomber

  Damn it all, Rush mused, irritated with himself. He shouldn’t have downed those first two beers. If his head had been clearer, he might have recognized her name.

  Rush frowned. He vaguely recalled Steve telling him about some fancy job with a large insurance company that was supposed to be waiting for Lindy once she graduated from college. Come to think of it, he thought Steve had said she was engaged to be married this summer, as well. He wondered what she was doing in Seattle, but after their poor beginning he wasn’t about to drill her about her job or problems with her fiancé.

  * * *

  Lindy sat at the kitchen table with the morning newspaper spread out in front of her. She chose to ignore Rush. As far as she was concerned the man had all the sensitivity of a woman-hating Neanderthal. Okay, so they were going to be sharing the apartment for a while. A week, he’d said. She could last that long if he could.

  Rush walked over to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, then muttered something that sounded faintly like a growl. Lindy supposed that was his own prehistoric version of “good morning.” She responded in kind.

  “What was that?” he demanded.

  “What?”

  “That disgusting little noise you just made.”

  “I was just wishing you a good morning.”

  “I’ll bet,” he muttered, lifting the steaming mug to his lips. He took a sip, then grimaced as if he’d scalded his tongue. He paused to glare at Lindy as though to blame her for his troubles.

  Swallowing a chuckle, Lindy stood, deposited her coffee cup in the kitchen sink and left the table, taking the morning paper with her. It wasn’t until she was in her bedroom that she realized she was smiling—something she hadn’t felt like doing in a long while. Maybe having a man around to thwart and frustrate wasn’t such a bad idea. With few exceptions, she’d recently come to view the opposite sex as both demanding and unreasonable. Rush Callaghan certainly fit the mold.

  Gathering her clothes and a few personal items, Lindy headed for the bathroom. She’d discarded her robe and had just leaned over the tub to start her bathwater, when Rush strolled in.

  “Are you planning to—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw slack.

  Reluctantly Lindy straightened, gripping the front of her gaping pajama top with one hand. Color mounted in her cheeks like a red flag rising as she realized that her bent position over the tub had probably granted Rush a bird’s-eye view of her rounded derriere. The flimsy baby-doll top no doubt gave him an equally revealing study of her breasts through the thin material. Incensed with herself as much as at Rush, she jerked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her middle.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and quickly moved out of the room. He stood just across the threshold, watching her as though he couldn’t jerk his gaze away. He swallowed hard once before stiffly stepping away.

  Lindy walked over and purposefully closed the door. To be on the safe side she locked it.

  “Just how long are you planning to be in there?” Rush shouted, apparently not feeling the necessity to disguise his bad mood.

  Lindy reached for her Timex. She looked at the watch and gave herself fifteen minutes. “I’ll be out before eight.” She expected an argument, but if Rush had any objection he didn’t voice it.

  Once Lindy was soaking in the hot bathwater, she found herself grinning once more. It was obvious that Rush Callaghan wasn’t accustomed to having a woman around. The thought pleased her, but it didn’t surprise her. The man was a grouch and dictatorial to boot, acting as though it were a woman’s duty to humbly submit to his every command. There weren’t many females who would be willing to put up with that kind of chauvinistic attitude. Lindy certainly wouldn’t.

  Nor had she been oblivious to his admiring appraisal. Just the memory of his slow, hungry look was enough to lift her mood considerably. After Paul, it did her ego a world of good to realize another man found her appealing. Plenty of doubts had surfaced over the past few weeks regarding her feminine charms, and it gave Lindy a cozy feeling deep down to realize she possessed enough allure to tempt a man.

  Now that she had time to think about it, Lindy admitted that Rush wasn’t so bad-looking himself in a fundamental sort of way. Until a woman recognized his condescending ways, Rush would undoubtedly fascinate her. He was well over six feet tall, with a muscled, whipcord leanness that spoke of discipline and control. His broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips and long legs. Without much effort, Lindy could picture him standing at attention in full-dress uniform, surveying all that was before him with an arrogant tilt of his square jaw. Lindy was surprised at the sudden strong charge of pleasure the thought gave her. Her mind conjured him standing tall and immovably proud, shoulders squared, gaze focused straight ahead. With the thought some of the pique she’d been feeling toward him vanished.

  But what intrigued her most about Rush Callaghan, she decided, were his eyes. Although he hadn’t said more than a handful of words to her this morning, his dark blue gaze was highly expressive and more than able to telegraph his sour mood. She’d gained a good deal of pleasure in provoking him and then watching his brows crowd his eyes, narrowing them into slits of cool, assessing color. Later when he’d confronted her in the bathroom, those same clear blue eyes had revealed much more.

  As her mind continued to play with the thoughts, Lindy scooted down into the hot water, raised a washcloth and idly drizzled the water over her smooth, flat stomach.

  * * *

  In the hallway outside the bathroom door, Rush paced like a stalking, caged tiger. He’d checked his watch every damn minute for the past five. Just how long did it take a woman to bathe, for God’s sake? Too damn long, for his tastes.

  Finally accepting the fact that pacing wasn’t going to hurry her any, he retreated into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress. In an effort to be honest with himself Rush admitted that it wasn’t the fact that Lindy was hogging the one facility in the apartment that irritated him so much. It was the tantalizing figure she’d presented to him when he’d inadvertently walked in on her.

  Her firm young body had all but taken his breath away, and when he checked his hands he found he was still trembling with the effects of the brief encounter. He hadn’t a clue as to why she would wear that silly piece of lace. The silky see-through fabric didn’t hide a damn thing.

  Like an innocent, he’d moved into the bathroom only to be confronted by the sweet curve of her buttocks and the milky white skin of her long, shapely legs. Rush could swear the woman’s legs went all the way up to her neck.

  If that sight hadn’t been enough to hammer the breath from his lungs, having her turn around and confront him had. Her full pink breasts had darkened at the tips as she struggled to hold the front of her pajamas together. Not that her efforts had done much good. Her nipples had hardened and pointed straight at him as though begging to be kissed. Even now the image had the power to tighten his groin and make his breath come in harsh, uneven gulps.

  A week. Oh Lord. He wondered if he could last that long. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He hoped the Mitchell would be ready to sail by then because he didn’t know how much longer he could contain himself around Lindy. He knew he had to avoid a relationship with her at all costs. In addition to being his best friend’s sister, Lindy was hurting, Rush realized. Something had happened—he didn’t know what, didn’t need to know—but he’d recognized the heavy shadow of pain and grief that hung over her head like a dark thundercloud. Something had knocked her world off kilter. And Rush wasn’t in a position to right it. He wasn’t anyone’s savior. In the meantime, the best thing that could happen was for him to keep his eyes and ears to himself and pray the Mitchell left ahead of schedule.

  * * *

  Lindy found Rush was in the kitchen when she returned from job hunting late that afternoon. Her day had gone amazingly well and she felt greatly encouraged. After filling out dozens of forms and passing a series of tests, she was scheduled for an interview at the Boeing Renton p
lant for the following Monday. The salary was more than she’d hoped for and the benefits substantial. She held high hopes for the interview. Perhaps the worm had finally turned and her luck was going to change. She certainly hoped so. But in the meantime she felt obligated to keep job hunting in case something else turned up between now and then. Besides she didn’t relish lingering around the apartment, bumping into Rush everytime she turned around.

  “Hi,” Lindy greeted Rush cheerfully, draping the strap of her purse over the back of the kitchen chair. She was in the mood to be generous with her reluctant roommate. After her fruitful day of job hunting, she was actually beginning to feel a little like her old self.

  It was obvious, however, from the vicious way Rush was scrubbing away at the dishes that his earlier dark mood hadn’t improved.

  He grumbled a reply, but didn’t turn around. “Listen, I’ve got a schedule posted outside the bathroom so there won’t be a recurrence of what happened this morning.”

  A schedule for the bathroom? He had to be joking! “Okay,” she answered, having difficulty disguising her amusement. She opened the refrigerator and took out a cold can of soda, closed the door and momentarily leaned against it. It struck her then that she was hungry. She’d eaten lunch hours before, but with her limited funds she couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant meal and had opted, instead, for a fast-food chicken salad. She had started to search through the cupboards when Rush turned around and nearly collided with her

  “Excuse me,” he said stiffly.

  “No problem.” She pressed herself against the counter as he moved past.

  From the way he skirted around her, one would think she was a carrier of bubonic plague.

  Without another word, Rush wiped his hands dry, rehung the dish towel and moved into the living room to turn on the television.

  Since he didn’t appear to be the least bit communicative, she wasn’t about to ask him if he’d eaten or if he was hungry. Far be it from her to appear anxious to share a meal with Rush when he obviously wanted to ignore her. They weren’t on a Sunday-school picnic here, they were merely polite strangers whose presence had been forced on each other.

  Sorting through the cupboards, Lindy brought out spaghetti noodles and a bottle of spicy Italian sauce. After weeks of a skimpy appetite, it felt good to think about cooking something substantial.

  The sausage was frying up nicely and the faint scent of fennel and sage wafted through the kitchen. Lindy brought out an onion and had begun dicing it to add to the meat when the knife slipped and neatly sliced into her index finger.

  The sight of blood squirting over the cutting board shocked more than hurt her. She cried out in a moment of panic and rushed to the sink, holding her hand.

  “Lindy, are you all right?”

  She ignored the question. The cut hurt now. Badly. Closing her eyes, she held her finger under the running water.

  “What happened?” Rush demanded, joining her at the sink.

  “Nothing.” Already the stainless steel was splashed with blotches of blood.

  “You cut yourself!”

  He sounded angry, as though she’d purposely injured herself in a futile attempt to gain his sympathy. “Are you always this brilliant or is this show of intelligence for my benefit?” she asked through clenched teeth. He looked stunned for a minute as though he didn’t understand a word of what she was saying. “Any idiot could see I’ve cut myself,” she cried, her voice raised and laced with a healthy dose of fright.

  “Let me take a look at it.”

  She shook her head forcefully, wishing he’d go away so she could assess the damage herself. The terrible stinging had been replaced by an aching throb. She couldn’t keep herself from bouncing, as if the action would lessen the pain.

  “Give me your hand,” he demanded, reaching for it.

  “Stop shouting at me,” she yelled, and jerked away from him. “As far as I’m concerned this is all your fault.”

  “My fault?” His expressive blue eyes widened.

  “Any fool knows better than to keep sharp knives around.” Lindy knew she wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “For God’s sake, stop hopping around and let me get a good look at it.”

  Using his upper body, he trapped her against the counter. She really didn’t have any choice but to let him examine the cut. Biting unmercifully into her bottom lip, she unfolded her fist, while gripping her wrist tightly with her free hand.

  His touch was surprisingly gentle and she watched as his brow folded together in a tight frown of concern.

  “It doesn’t look like you’re going to need stitches.”

  Lindy expelled a sigh of relief. With no health insurance, a simple call to the hospital emergency room would quickly deplete her limited funds. And although her parents were willing, Lindy didn’t want to ask them for money.

  “Here.” With a tenderness she hadn’t expected from Rush, he reached for a clean towel and carefully wrapped it around her hand. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Wait here and I’ll get a bandage.”

  It was all Lindy could do to nod. She felt incredibly silly now, placing the blame on him for having a sharp knife. He left her and returned a couple of minutes later with some gauze and tape.

  “I didn’t mean what I said about this being your fault,” she told him, raising her eyes to meet his.

  His eyes widened momentarily, and then a smile flickered in their blue depths. “I know,” was all he said.

  Although she was willing to credit her loss of blood with the stunning effect of his smile, there was no discounting the way her heart and head reacted. The simple action left Lindy warmed in its afterglow long after her finger was bandaged.

  * * *

  Three days passed and Rush and Lindy became a little more comfortable with each other. There were still a few awkward moments, but Lindy discovered that they could at least sit across the table from each other and carry on a decent conversation without risking an argument.

  Rush tended to stay out of her way—and she, his—but there were certain times of the day when meeting was inevitable. In the mornings when they were both hurrying to get ready to leave the apartment, for instance. Twice Rush had gone out in the evening, leaving abruptly without a word. Lindy hadn’t asked where he went and he didn’t volunteer the information, but Lindy had the impression that he was simply avoiding being at close quarters with her.

  Since it seemed silly for them to cook separate meals, they’d reached an agreement that Lindy would prepare the meals and Rush would do the dishes.

  Rush was sitting in the living room when Lindy let herself into the apartment on Friday afternoon. She tossed her purse aside and slumped down on the opposite end of the sofa away from him.

  “Any luck?” he asked in a conversational way, watching her.

  Lindy noted that he looked tired and frustrated. “No, but I’m hoping everything will come together at the interview on Monday.”

  He stood, rammed his hands into his pockets and looked away from her, staring out the window. “I’m not exactly filled with good news myself.”

  “Oh?” She studied him closely, wondering at his strange mood.

  “Without going into a lot of detail,” he said, his voice tight, “the problem holding up the Mitchell isn’t going to be easily fixed.”

  Lindy nodded and drew in a ragged breath, not sure what was coming next.

  “It’s going to take as long as a month to have the parts flown in,” he continued.

  “I see.” She straightened and brushed aside a crease in her blue skirt, her fingers lingering over the material. “I suppose this means you want me to leave then, doesn’t it?”

  Chapter 3

  “Leave?” Rush echoed, looking both surprised and angry.

  Lindy bounded to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides in tight fists. “It’s a perfectly logical question, so don’t snap at me.”

  “I’m not snapping.”
<
br />   “A turtle couldn’t do it better.”

  “Are you always this prickly or is it something about me?” He was glaring at her, demanding a response, the look in his eyes hot enough to boil water.

  Although his voice was deliberately expressionless and quiet, Lindy knew by the tight set of his jaw that he was getting madder by the minute. Not that she cared. The man drove her absolutely loony. She’d never known anyone who could control his emotions the way Rush did. Oh sure, he laughed, he smiled, he talked, he argued, but in the entire four days that she’d been living in the apartment with him, he’d revealed as much sentiment as a wooden Indian. Even when she’d cut her finger and hopped around the kitchen like a crazed kangaroo, he’d been as calm and collected as though he handled hurting, frightened women every day of his life. Nothing seemed to faze Rush. Nothing.

  “Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll go,” she announced with a proud tilt of her chin. “It won’t be necessary for you to ask twice.” She bent down and reached for the strap of her purse, her heart pounding like a charging locomotive. Moving was something she should have done the minute she realized she wasn’t going to have the apartment to herself.

  “Damn it, Lindy. I didn’t say you had to leave.”

  She blinked. “You didn’t?”

  “No. You jumped to conclusions.”

  “Oh.” Now she felt like a bloody idiot. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize. She’d had a rough day; the heel had broken off her shoe and the job she’d gone to apply for wasn’t the least bit as it had been advertised. Although they’d offered it to her, she’d decided against it. Good grief. She wouldn’t have been anything more than a glorified desk clerk. Maybe she shouldn’t be so particular, but after four years of college she wanted so much more than to file papers and answer a telephone.

  Maybe she was feeling a little guilty because she’d told Rush she hadn’t had any luck when she’d actually gotten a job offer. And refused it.

  They stood not more than five feet apart and his piercing gaze locked with hers, burning straight through her proud resolve.