The sense of satisfaction she gained leaping past Royce was enough to make her forget how hard she was pushing herself to maintain this stride.
The feeling of triumph was short-lived, as she knew it would be. Royce stepped up his pace and quickly charged around her. Then he slowed down and waited for her steps to join his.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted, cordially enough.
“Commander.” She wasn’t in any mood to wish him a pleasant anything. Once again he’d managed to irritate her. No man had evoked such heated feelings from her, whether they be reasonable or unreasonable. It was all because of Royce Nyland that she’d been the one poring over a carload of files late into the afternoon.
Royce increased his stride, and Catherine struggled to keep even with him. She had the feeling that he could have left her to eat his dust at anytime, and was simply toying with her the way a cat enjoys playing with a cornered mouse. None of that seemed to matter as she pushed herself harder than ever.
After a couple of laps, Catherine sensed his amusement. No doubt she and her damnable pride were a keen source of entertainment to the obstinate executive officer.
Somehow Catherine managed to keep up with Royce for three complete laps, but she knew she couldn’t continue the killing pace any longer. It was either drop out now or collapse. Catherine chose the former.
When she pulled back, slowed her pace to a fast walk, Royce raced ahead, then he surprised her by turning around and coming back. He kept his arms and feet in motion as he matched her speed.
“You all right?”
“Just ducky.” She barely managed to breathe evenly, and prayed a sufficient amount of sarcasm leaked through to convey her mood.
A crooked smile slanted his mouth, his look cool and mocking. “Do you have a problem, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Off the record?” she asked, without hesitating. A month of frustration could no longer be contained, and she was bursting to let him know exactly what she thought of him.
“By all means.”
Catherine might be digging herself in deeper than she dare, but her patience was shot. “Is there something about me that troubles you, Commander?” She didn’t give him time to respond, but rushed ahead, “Because something’s rotten in Denmark, and frankly, it isn’t my problem…. It’s yours.”
“I don’t treat you any differently than anyone else,” Royce inserted smoothly.
“Like hell you don’t,” she shot back heatedly. Thankfully the others had left the track, which might or might not be a blessing.
“I don’t see you assigning anyone else to stand duty four weeks straight. For some unknown reason you’ve chosen to destroy my weekends. I’ve spent eleven years in this man’s Navy and I’ve never stood duty more than once a month. Until you were assigned my XO. Apparently you don’t like me, Commander, and I demand to know why.”
A nerve twitched in his lean, hard jaw. “On the contrary, I find your dedication to duty to be highly commendable.”
Catherine didn’t actually expect him to admit his dislike of her, but she wasn’t willing to listen to his military rhetoric, either. “I suppose my dedication to duty is what made you decide to bless me with this plush job of coordinating the physical fitness program? Was that supposed to be a bonus for all the extra hours I put in on the Miller case? If so, find another way to thank me, would you?” She was trying to talk and draw in deep breaths at the same time and doubted that Royce could make out more than a few words.
Royce stiffened. “Is that all?”
“Not quite.” She was only beginning to gain her momentum. “Off the record, Commander, I think you’re a real jerk.”
When she finished, Catherine was overwhelmed with a feeling of release. She started to tremble, but she wasn’t sure if the shaking could be attributed to the fact she’d pushed herself physically to the point of collapse or that she’d stood on a military compound and shouted insults at her executive officer at the top of her lungs.
His look was impossible to read. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was decidedly uncomfortable.
“Is that a fact?” he demanded.
“Yes.” Her voice wobbled with uncertainty, sounding as though it were coming from the bottom of a well. She drew in a deep breath, knowing she’d stepped over the boundaries of what should and shouldn’t be said to a superior officer. The blood that seemed to have been pounding in her ears like ringing church bells suddenly went silent.
With her hands knotted into tight fists at her sides, she braced herself for the backlash. If she thought to clear the air, she was sadly mistaken. If she’d accomplished anything it was to sabotage her own career.
Royce didn’t say anything for several moments, but the nerve in his jaw continued twitching. Then he nodded as though they’d casually been discussing the weather, turned and resumed running. Catherine was left standing alone to stare after him.
* * *
Catherine spent an uncomfortable night, tossing and turning and finally talking over her troubles with Sambo. To her way of thinking, Royce would either ignore her outburst or see to it that she was transferred to a Third World country. However he reacted, she would be getting exactly what she deserved. No one spoke to their XO the way she had. No one.
For hours she lay awake analyzing what had happened. After several soul-seeking sessions, she still didn’t know what had caused her to get loose enough to say the things she did.
The following morning, Royce was already at his desk, behind closed doors when she arrived. She glanced cautiously toward his office. If there was a merciful God, then Commander Nyland would be willing to forget and forgive her outburst from the day before. She would apologize, grovel if need be, but leaving matters as they were was clearly unacceptable.
“Morning,” she said gingerly to Elaine Perkins. “How’s the great white hunter today?” she asked, hoping her secretary had had a chance to judge Royce’s mood.
“Same as usual,” Elaine told her, sipping coffee from a thick ceramic mug. Her voice drawled with a thick southern accent. “He asked me to send you into his office when you arrived.”
Catherine felt the starch go out of her knees. “He asked to see me?”
“You heard me right. What are you looking so worried about? You haven’t done anything, have you?”
“Nothing,” Catherine whispered in reply. Nothing except stick her head in a noose and sling the other end of the rope over the highest branch in the tree.
Squaring her shoulders in her best military form, she walked across the office and knocked politely on the commander’s door. When she was ordered to enter the room, she did so with her eyes focused straight ahead.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Sir.”
“Relax, Catherine.” He leaned back in his chair, his chin resting on folded hands as though he were still weighing his decision.
Relax, he’d told her to relax, only Catherine hadn’t figured out how she was supposed to be at ease when her career was on the line. She hadn’t joined the Navy like so many other women with her head in the clouds, seeking adventure, travel and a paid education. She knew from the beginning about the rigorous routine, the political infighting and the fact she’d be dealing with world-class chauvinists.
Nevertheless she loved being part of the Navy. She’d worked hard, and her efforts had been rewarded. Now this.
“Since our recent discussion I’ve been having second thoughts,” Royce said flatly.
Catherine swallowed against the heaviness in her throat. She doubted if she could have spoken if she tried.
“From everything I’ve read about you, you have an excellent record.” He leaned forward and closed her file. “Effective immediately, I’m removing you as the substitute coordinator of the physical fitness program, and assigning Lieutenant Johnson the duty.”
Catherine was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her eyes, which had been trained on the opposite wall, ski
rted to his. A breathless moment passed before she could speak, “You’re removing me from the physical fitness program?” She couldn’t have been more surprised had he announced he was working for the KGB.
“That’s what I just said.”
Catherine blinked, not knowing what to say. “Thank you, sir,” she finally managed.
“That will be all,” he said, dismissing her.
She hesitated. She’d wanted to apologize for her outburst from the day before, but one look told her Royce wasn’t interested in listening to her list her excuses.
As it was, her knees were knocking so badly that she walked over to her desk, slumped into the chair and held on to the edge as though it were a lifeline.
* * *
Catherine didn’t see Royce for the remainder of the day, for which she was grateful. It gave her time to sort through her emotions, which were as confused and tangled as thin gold chains. She didn’t know what to make of the executive commander. Every time she had him figured out, he’d do something more to confuse her. Complicating the matter even further were her muddled feelings toward him. He was by far the most virile man she’d ever met. She couldn’t be in the same room with him and not experience that magnetism. Yet, she found herself intensely disliking him.
An early October drizzle moistened the air when Catherine walked out to the parking lot later that same afternoon. Rain, rain and more rain.
It was already dark, and her calf muscles were so sore she’d decided to skip running at the track. At least that was the excuse she’d given herself. How much truth there was to her rationale was something she’d prefer not to question.
Her GEO Storm was parked in the far end of the lot, and Catherine walked briskly toward it, hunching her shoulders against the chilly air. She opened her door, gratefully climbed inside and turned the ignition. Nothing. She tried again with the same results. The battery was completely dead.
With her hands braced against the steering wheel, Catherine groaned. She knew as much about the internal workings of a car as she did about performing brain surgery. Her automobile was only a few months old; surely there wasn’t anything wrong with the engine.
Climbing out, she decided to check under the hood. How much good that would do was highly debatable, especially in the dark. It took her several minutes to find the clasp that would release the lock. In the dim light from the street lamp, she couldn’t see much of anything.
The only thing she could think to do was call a towing service. She was walking back to her building when a low black sports car rolled past her, then circled around.
“Problems?” It was Royce Nyland.
Catherine froze, her first instinct was to claim she had everything under control and send him on his way. Lie, fib, anything that would postpone another encounter. She hadn’t had the time to filter through her emotions from the one earlier in the day. Royce Nyland flustered her, and clouded her judgment. She wanted to dislike him, categorize him and wrap him up in one neat package. But every time she’d attempted to gain perspective, he did something to alter her opinion of him. He brought out the worst in her and yet she’d never worked harder to impress an officer. Then it came to her with driving force. She was sexually attracted to Royce Nyland.
Attracted in a way that spelled trouble for them both. As long as she was under his command, anything romantic between them was strictly prohibited. The Navy didn’t pull any punches when it came to emotional involvement between men and women, one a supervisor to the other. Not even a hint of impropriety would be tolerated.
For her sake as well as his, she must ignore the fact her heart raced every time she saw him. She had to ignore the way her eyes sought him out whenever he walked into the room. When they were on the track together, she had to disregard the strength and power that radiated from him like warmth from a roaring fire. Royce Nyland was as off-limits to her as a married man.
“Is that your car?” he asked, obviously impatient with her lack of response.
“Yes…it won’t start.”
“I’ll take a look at it for you.”
Before she could tell him she was about to call for a tow truck, he switched gears and drove over to where her Storm was parked with its hood raised. By the time she walked back, he was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“It looks like you left your lights on this morning. The battery’s dead.”
“Oh…I must have.” She wasn’t usually this slow-witted. Running around the track with Royce was one thing, but standing in the far end of the parking lot in the shadows was another. Instinctively she backed away.
“I have a battery cable in my car. I’ll give you a start.” It took only a matter of minutes for him to arrange the clamps linking the cables between the batteries of the two cars. They worked together and within a matter of minutes, her engine was purring contentedly.
She climbed out of the car while Royce disconnected the cable. Although it wasn’t all that cold, she rubbed her hands together several times.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, tossed the cable into the trunk of his car and was prepared to leave when she stopped him.
“Royce.”
She hadn’t meant to say his name, it had slipped out naturally. Apologizing had never come easy to her, but she owed him one—for the heat of her anger, the unreasonableness of her attack. “I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night. If there’s any excuse, it’s that I was tired and short-tempered. It won’t happen again.”
“It was off the record, Fredrickson, don’t worry about it.” His mouth slowly curved into a smile. Their eyes met, solidly, hungrily and God help her, Catherine felt herself step toward him.
“I’m worried.” But it wasn’t what she’d said or done that she was talking about and she knew they both knew it. His eyes continued to detain hers. She’d never seen eyes so dark. They told her things she’d only suspected. Things she didn’t want to know and had no business knowing.
He was lonely. So was she.
He was alone. So was she.
So alone she lay in bed at night and ached. The need to be touched and held and kissed sometimes filled her with desperation.
She sensed the same desperation in Royce. It was what had drawn them together; it was what was keeping them apart.
The seconds throbbed between them like a giant time clock. Neither moved. Catherine dared not breathe. She was one step from walking directly into his arms, one word from spilling out everything she was feeling. The tension between them was as threatening as a thundercloud in a sky of blue. As strong as a prize fighter.
It was Royce who moved first. Away from her. Catherine sighed, her relief was so great.
“There won’t be any problems,” he whispered, turned and walked away.
She knew he wasn’t speaking about her car.
Catherine wished she could believe it, but something told her it was far from the truth.
* * *
Royce was shaking. His hands were actually trembling as he sat in his own driveway, composing himself before he walked inside the house. He’d come so close to kissing Catherine that even now the thought of her filling his arms was enough to produce an ache so powerful, so sharp, it took his breath away. Royce was a man who thrived on discipline. He prided himself on his self-control, and yet he’d come a hair’s space from tossing away everything he knew was right. And for what reason? Catherine Fredrickson turned him on.
For three years, Royce had shut off the valve that controlled his carnal appetites. He didn’t need love, didn’t need tenderness or require a woman’s touch. Those were base emotions, best ignored. And neglect them he had until he’d met Catherine.
From the moment she’d walked into his office, he’d been confronted with a surge of unexpected, and unwanted feelings. He hadn’t recognized what he was dealing with in the beginning. Subconsciously he had, otherwise he would never have gone out of his way to ruin her weekends by assigning her duty four Friday nights running. It d
idn’t take a psychiatrist’s couch to figure that one. He’d been batting a thousand when her name was the first one that drifted into his mind when he learned a substitute coordinator was going to be needed for the physical fitness program.
In analyzing his deeds, Royce realized he was punishing Catherine. With just cause. The lieutenant commander was a constant thorn in his flesh, a reminder that he was a man with needs that refused to be denied any longer.
Unfortunately there was a good deal more at stake than satisfying a deep physical hunger. Catherine was under his command, which put pressure on them both. She was strictly off limits. Neither of them could afford to indulge in this attraction. It would only end up hurting them both. Their careers would suffer, and they’d both worked too damn hard to screw it up now over a few undisciplined hormones.
Dragging a fresh breath through his lungs, Royce closed his eyes and tried to push the picture of Catherine from his mind. He’d seen the emotions tearing at her in the parking lot, witnessed the pride-filled way in which she’d tilted her chin. Damn but the woman was proud. She apologized, accepting all the blame herself, although heaven knew everything she’d said was right. In that moment, he never respected a woman more. For her honesty, for her directness, for the fact she was willing to deal with whatever it was between them, lay it on the ground and call it what it was.
In those few words, heavy with meaning, Catherine had told him something he’d long suspected. Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson was a woman of substance. One so rare, one so beautiful, he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to get her out of his mind. All he knew was that he must succeed even if it meant requesting a transfer and uprooting Kelly from the only home she’d ever known.
Chapter Three
“Can we go to a movie, too?” Kelly asked, snapping her seat belt into place. They were on their way to the Kitsap Mall, where the all-important jacket was on sale. It was either buy his daughter the coat or ruin her life before the eyes of her peers. Royce couldn’t remember clothes and shoes being so vital when he was in grade school, but the world was a hell of a lot different place when he was ten.
Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set Page 62
