Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

by Debbie Macomber

  Neal wasn’t wealthy. Money had never concerned Erin much, although it would be nice if he did happen to have a healthy savings account, since she tended to live paycheck-to-paycheck.

  For the past several years, whenever Erin had dated someone new—which she hated to admit hadn’t been that often—she’d compared him to Neal. Her ideal man. The visualization of her dream husband.

  Although Brand and Neal might be relatively close in physical attributes, they were worlds apart in every other area.

  “What did you just say?” Brand asked, nuzzling her ear with his nose. They were sitting on the sofa, watching an old television movie. Most of the day had been spent walking around the Seattle Center, the site of the 1962 World’s Fair, and talking. Although they’d talked for hours on end, neither of them had spoken about their situation again or discussed their options.

  “I said something?” Erin asked, surprised.

  “Yes. It sounded like ‘Tell Brand about Neal.’”

  “I said that out loud?” She scooted away from him and sat on the edge of the cushion, pressing her elbows into her knees. This habit of voicing her thoughts was growing worse all the time. Nothing was sacred anymore.

  “Who’s Neal?”

  “A…friend,” she stammered, not daring to look at him. If she were to let Brand know that Neal was just part of her fantasy world, he’d book her into the nearest hospital and request a mental evaluation.

  “A friend,” Brand repeated thoughtfully. “Competition?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Why didn’t you mention him before now?” Brand’s voice had tightened slightly.

  It seemed the perfect opportunity to pretend Neal was real, but that would mean lying to Brand, and Erin didn’t know that she could do it. She’d had such little practice at telling lies, and Brand would probably see through it in a second.

  “I haven’t seen Neal in a while,” she answered, stalling for time. She had to think fast, milk this opportunity for all it was worth and prove to Brand that she wasn’t as naive or as guileless as he seemed to believe.

  “So he’s a friend you haven’t seen in a while?”

  “That’s correct. Are you jealous?”

  “Insanely so. Do I need to worry about him?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” he demanded.

  “Several things.” She stretched and, leaning back, relaxed against him, tucking her feet beneath her.

  It was all the invitation Brand needed. His hands stroked the length of her arms as he buried his mouth against her hair and said, “I’m not too worried.”

  “Good. There’s really no reason for you to be.”

  Brand slipped his mouth a little higher and nibbled at her earlobe. At the heated flow of tingling pleasure, she carefully edged away from him, unfolding her feet.

  Brand caught her by the shoulders and brought her back against him. He pushed his fingers through her hair, lifting it away from the side of her neck, and kissed her there, his tongue moist and hot.

  “As I said before,” Brand murmured against her throat. “I’m not concerned.”

  “Maybe you should be. He’s got a steady job. Roots.”

  “So do I.”

  A tiny smile edged up her lips. “Perhaps, but your roots are shallow and easily transplanted. Maybe you should consider Neal competition.”

  “Is that so?” He twisted her around and pressed her back against the sofa cushion, poising himself above her. His eyes held hers, reading her as best he could. Erin didn’t dare blink.

  Slowly he lowered his head to the valley between her breasts and flicked his tongue over the warm flesh. His fingers laid open her lacy bra with a dexterity that should have shocked her, and in fact, did.

  Erin clasped his head and sighed with welcome and relief as his mouth latched hungrily on a nipple and feasted heavily. The things he did to her breasts felt so good, so wonderful. To have him come to her like this, as if he were familiar with every part of her womanly body, as if the passion and the intimacy they shared made everything right. She arched and buckled beneath him, having trouble thinking coherently. He didn’t help matters any by transferring his attention to the other breast.

  Brand made everything feel right. Such thinking was bound to lead her into trouble. Erin might as well believe she could walk on water or leap off a tall building without the least bit of worry as have him make love to her like this.

  As nonsensical as it was, having Brand touch her caused all the problems in the world to fade from view. All the conflict between them shriveled up and died a quick and silent death. With her breasts filling his mouth and his hands creating a magic and a heat that threatened to bring her to that earth-shattering sensual explosion, there was no room for anything but feeling. No room for doubt. No room for fear. No room for questions.

  His kiss raked her mouth while his hands shaped and molded her breasts, lifting them so that the hardened, excited peaks rubbed against the rough fabric of his shirt. She longed to feel her flesh against his, and she worked toward that end, nearly tearing the material as she tugged it free from his waist. After she popped one button, Brand pushed her eager hands aside and unfastened the few remaining buttons himself. With his help, she was able to peel off the only barrier between them, thin as it was.

  Brand lowered himself to her, and the sensation of her warm, heated flesh against the masculine roughness of his hard chest caused her to close her eyes and cry out in pleasure.

  Brand subdued her whimper with a kiss, plunging his tongue deep in her mouth. His hips moved against hers, telegraphing his urgent need for her. Erin wanted him, too, and instinctively countered each of his movements with one of her own.

  Pressing her hand between them, she stroked the hard outline of his maleness. Brand groaned against her mouth, and when he drew in a deep breath, she could feel the rumbling in his chest against the softness of her breasts. She reached for the snap of his jeans, but he pushed her fumbling hand aside and released it himself.

  He kissed the side of her jaw and teased the seam of her lips with his tongue. “You’re proving to be too much of a temptation.”

  “Me? Really?” She couldn’t help sounding surprised. As far as she knew, she’d never enticed a man. Certainly not to the point of arousal Brand had reached. It made her feel beautiful when she knew she wasn’t, and powerful when she’d never experienced a weakness more profound.

  Slowly, as if her hand weighed a great deal more than it did, he lifted it away from him and pinned it between them, flattening her palm against his chest.

  “Now,” he said, drawing in a slow, even breath, “reassure me.”

  She frowned. “About what?”

  “Neal.”

  Her face relaxed into a slow smile. “Neal is…Let me put it this way…” No, she decided, it was too difficult to explain. “You don’t need to worry about him.”

  “He wants you, doesn’t he?”

  She lowered her lashes and shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t have said anything. It was a slip of the tongue, remember? Not meant for your ears.”

  “I don’t care. I want to know who he is.”

  “Trust me, you don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

  “Is he married to someone else?”

  She was beginning to regret the whole episode, especially since she’d known from the first that she wasn’t going to be able to pull it off and she’d persisted anyway. Brand deserved the truth, no matter how unflattering it was.

  “Neal isn’t real. I made him up a long time ago when I wrote down a list of the personality traits I wanted in a husband. I shouldn’t have carried it this far—It was a poor joke.”

  “What?” Brand exploded. After a shocked moment, he laughed, then kissed the curve of her shoulder and lightly bit her skin.

  She yelped, though he hadn’t hurt her.

  “That’s what you deserve.”

  “I couldn’t help it. You fell into my
hands.”

  “That isn’t the only thing we fell into. Sweet heaven, Erin, either we resolve something soon, or I’m going back to Hawaii unfit for military service.”

  The reminder that he would be leaving within a few hours robbed them of laughter and fun and shared passions like a thief in the night.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he eased himself off her and then helped Erin into a sitting position. He continued to hold her for several minutes, his chin resting against the crown of her head.

  Neither spoke. But the silence wasn’t an uneasy one. Both of them seemed not to want or need to fill the void with idle chatter. Perhaps because they were afraid of what there was to say.

  He was leaving, and it was something Erin had to accept. If they were to continue their relationship, it would be something he’d do countless times. Soon she’d end up keeping tabs on the times they said goodbye.

  * * *

  Later, Brand insisted on taking her to a plush restaurant. The food was excellent. They talked some more, but once again they avoided the subject that was uppermost in their minds.

  “So how’s Margo?” he asked over coffee when a sudden silence fell between them.

  “Margo…Oh, I’d forgotten I’d told you about her. She’s doing better than I expected,” Erin said, and then added, “but she’s having her share of problems, too. Mostly she’s having a difficult time dealing with her anger. A few weeks back I recommended she attend an anger-management course.”

  “Has she always had trouble with that?”

  “Apparently not, but we’re not dealing with someone with a hot temper. What Margo is experiencing is rage. There are times when she literally wants to kill her husband for what he’s done to her and their marriage. As more and more of the details of his ‘other life’ come into play, she’s having to face head-on the deception and the pain, and that isn’t easy for anyone. She feels betrayed and abandoned, in addition to being confused and lost. There was one bright spot, however. She got her driver’s license recently, and I believe once she experiences the freedom a car will give her she’s going to adjust a whole lot better.”

  Brand sipped his coffee, his eyes warm and thoughtful. “Doesn’t being around these women affect you?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Your attitude?”

  “Toward marriage?”

  Brand nodded.

  “I’ve seen plenty of good marriages, my own mother and father’s included. I—”

  “Just a minute,” Brand interrupted. “You mean to say your parents, who’ve been married how many years?”

  “Thirty.”

  “They’ve been married thirty years and they’re happy.”

  It didn’t take a genius to see where Brand was leading the conversation. “You can stop right now, Brandon Davis. My mother is a special kind of woman. She thrived on adventure, and don’t let anyone kid you, transporting everything you own from one port to another is an adventure, mostly the unpleasant variety.”

  “She liked it?”

  “Liked isn’t the word I’d use. Mom accepted it. When Dad announced he had shipping orders, she’d simply smile and dutifully do what had to be done, without question, without regret.”

  “I see. And you—”

  She raised her hand. “Don’t even ask.” A short silence fell over them. “We’re doing it again,” Erin said after several tension-filled moments.

  “Arguing?”

  “No,” she answered, her coffee capturing her attention. “We’ve done it almost the entire length of your stay.”

  “Done what?”

  “Talked about everything else.” After he’d first arrived, they’d discussed their relationship only briefly. It was something of a wonder how they’d masterfully avoided the subject for as long as they had. They’d talked about her Women In Transition class, her job with the King County Community Action Program and Marilyn—alias Margo—at length. Even Aimee and her troubled marriage had entered into their conversation.

  Sometimes they’d spend hours on a single subject. Brand was an easy person to talk to. He listened and seemed genuinely interested in every aspect of her life, sharing her love and concern for others.

  In retrospect, she understood their reluctance to discuss their own relationship, or rather their lack of one.

  “There’s no solution for us,” she said, swamped with melancholy. They couldn’t continue to fool themselves. Sooner or later they’d be forced to face the impossibility of their situation. Brand was one hundred percent Navy. As it had been with her father, it was with him. The military was far more than his career; it was his life.

  “Of course, there’s a solution,” Brand countered.

  “You could leave the navy and find work here in Seattle,” she offered, but even as she spoke, Erin realized that plan wasn’t feasible. Brand would be miserable outside of the military, just as unhappy as she’d be as part of it.

  He mulled over her suggestion for a time. “I wish settling in Seattle was that easy, but it isn’t.”

  “I know,” she answered bitterly. Glancing at her watch, she moved her gaze from her wrist to him. “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

  Brand looked at his own watch. “We still have time.”

  Erin wasn’t convinced of that. But she wasn’t as worried about Brand making his transport plane as she was about having to tell him goodbye. This time was going to be far more difficult than the first, and the third even more heart-wrenching than the second. It would go on and on and on until they were both so much in love and so wretched they’d be willing to agree to anything just to end the heartache.

  “There’ll never be any easy answers for us,” she whispered through the tightening knot of truth. “One of us will end up giving in to the other and spending the rest of our lives wishing we hadn’t.”

  “You’re right,” Brand announced abruptly. “Now that you mention it, I believe it is time we left.” He stood and slapped his linen napkin on the table.

  Erin noted how tense the muscles of his jaw had become. Silently she did as he asked, excusing herself while he paid the tab.

  Once she was inside the powder room, Erin leaned against the sink, needing its support. If she didn’t compose herself, she was going to break down and weep right there.

  She had to put an end to this torment for both their sakes. Brand didn’t seem to want to listen to reason. From everything he’d said, he seemed to believe a magical, mystical fairy godmother would swoop down out of the heavens and declare the perfect solution and they’d all live happily ever after. It simply wasn’t going to happen.

  By the time she reappeared, Brand was standing outside waiting for her. The night was cool, the stars obliterated by a thick overcast and the threat of rain hung heavy in the air.

  Brand greeted her with “I think it would be best if we said goodbye here.”

  Her heart objected loud and strong, but she didn’t voice a single doubt. “You’re probably right.”

  “Well,” he said after expelling his breath. “This is it.”

  “Right,” she returned. “Have a safe trip.”

  “I will.”

  How stiff and unemotional he sounded, as if they were little more than acquaintances.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go to the airport with—”

  “No.”

  She nodded, feeling wretched. This was worse than she’d ever believed it would be. Her throat had closed off, and she couldn’t have carried on a conversation had her life depended on it. One- or two-word replies were all she could manage.

  “Yes,” he countered, just as quickly. “Come with me. God help us both, Erin. I can’t bear to say goodbye to you like this.”

  Chapter Seven

  The phone was ringing when Erin walked in the door that evening. She rushed into the kitchen to answer it, her heart racing like a steam engine. She frantically prayed it was Brand and that he wouldn’t give up before she could make it to the phone. All the while she wa
s dashing across the house she cursed herself, because she was famished for the sound of his voice, eager to accept each little crumb he tossed her way, despite all her vows to the contrary.

  She’d gone to the airport with him, kissed him goodbye, then stood and waited until his plane had taxied down the runway and shot into the sky, taking him away from her. Like a fool, she’d stood there for what seemed like an eternity, her heart aching, while she chided herself for caring so damn much. Now she was doing it all again. Running through her own home, risking life and limb in an effort to reach the phone, praying it was Brand who was trying to contact her.

  “Hello,” she answered breathlessly, nearly tearing the phone off the wall in her eagerness to get to it in time. While her breathing returned to normal, she was forced to listen to a twenty-second campaign from a professional carpet-cleaning company.

  By the time she replaced the receiver, Erin was shaking with irritation. Not because she was angry with the salesperson, but simply because the caller hadn’t been Brand.

  He’d left two weeks earlier, and she’d heard from him twice by phone. A handful of letters had arrived, and although she treasured each one, she found something important was lacking in this second batch. Something Erin couldn’t quite put her finger on. Each letter was filled with details of his life, but she felt Brand was holding back a part of himself from her, protecting his heart in much the same way she was shielding hers.

  She’d written him a number of times herself, but she’d always been careful about what she told him. Anyone reading her letters would assume she and Brand were nothing more than good friends.

  After he’d left the second time, she’d battled with the right and wrong of continuing a long-distance relationship. Over the years she’d repeatedly promised herself she wouldn’t allow this very thing to happen, yet here she was involved with a navy man! Her principles had vanished like topsoil in a flash flood. Past experience had taught her that Brand wouldn’t give up on her, and frankly, she hadn’t the strength to sever things on her own.