by A. J. Quinn
At the moment, she had more than enough on her plate professionally, yet as hectic as the past week had been, Tate had found herself constantly distracted by thoughts of Evan. Too often for her own peace of mind. She had also spent an inordinate amount of time wishing she would hear from her. A voice mail or an e-mail. Anything that would let her know Evan was at least thinking about her.
No one had ever captured her interest the way Evan Kane had managed to do. And the ache was amplified each time she heard or saw military jets flying high overhead. Or each time she saw someone in a navy uniform.
Or each time she breathed.
But there had been no call, no e-mail, and Tate began to wonder if, despite Evan’s assurances to the contrary, the night they had spent together had indeed been a one-time occurrence. One night of hot sex and nothing more. If that was the case, she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted.
She didn’t bother asking herself why it bothered her. Why it mattered. She only knew it did and she was too tired to deny it.
It was possible her usually flawless memory had exaggerated Evan’s appeal. But no. Evan’s appeal was undeniable, and Tate remembered the pull with perfect clarity. Just thinking about her—the laughing eyes, the sensuous mouth—tugged at her. She wanted to feel the attraction again, to enjoy it, to understand it.
Still the question remained. What did she really know about Evan Kane?
She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was bright, laughed easily, and could dance the tango like no one she had ever known. She was adventurous and uninhibited.
And, damn it all, Tate was unbelievably attracted to her.
Acting on impulse, she reached for her laptop and initiated a search before she could question her own motives too closely. Maybe if she could relegate the enigma that was Evan Kane to a tidy little niche in her mind, she could forget about her and move on. But as long as there were so many unanswered questions, Evan would continue to linger in her thoughts.
Three hours later, she sat in the darkness, surprised by how limited the information available actually was. Considering how often they themselves made the news, Althea and Robert Kane had quite clearly done an admirable job of protecting their children’s privacy.
But not completely. Completely was impossible in the information age, Tate thought, as Evan’s image stared back at her from the computer screen. The photograph she was looking at was her favorite of all the images she’d come across. It had been taken at a party political fundraiser, when Evan would have been perhaps eighteen.
She had a face photographers would love. But there could be no question Evan was even more striking in person than in her pictures, Tate decided. Because of her vitality. Her intelligence. Her humor. In person, she was irresistible.
At the time the photograph was taken, her face had been framed by a tumble of long ebony hair that gave her a wild, sexy look—a free spirit in the midst of political movers and shakers. Wearing a slim-fitting Alexander McQueen with a plunging neckline, diamonds sparkling in her ears, Evan looked sleek and sophisticated. Her angular face might be younger, but she was instantly recognizable. There was no mistaking the luminous gray eyes, the high cheekbones, and the boldly sensuous mouth flanked by the twin dimples.
Her smile was full and beckoning. Provocative.
Through the wonders of Google, Tate learned Evan Kane had been educated at private schools in Europe and Washington and had graduated from Stanford with a degree in aeronautical engineering. She’d been everywhere by the time she was seventeen and spoke seven or eight languages, with Farsi, Arabic, Mandarin, and Japanese among them. With those skills and her mother’s connections, it was a wonder no one in Washington had reeled her in yet.
There were also numerous hits on her brother Alex—a twin—described as an out-and-proud artist who was rapidly making a name for himself in the West Coast art scene.
She continued to sit, staring at the photograph without moving until long after the candle burned out.
*
The flowers arrived two days later, a crystal vase filled with roses and Asiatic lilies in varying shades of yellow and orange. Inexplicably touched by the gesture, Tate tried to remember the last time anyone had sent her flowers, but nothing came to mind.
The card simply read Evan. Perhaps more was unnecessary, she mused, especially when she could Google the language of the flowers in the delicately beautiful arrangement.
The lilies symbolized feminine sexuality, while the roses spoke of passion.
Yellow for the promise of a new beginning. Orange for desire.
Are you trying to tell me something, Commander?
Chapter Four
It was more than two full weeks after the embassy party before Tate finally received the telephone call she’d been alternately dreading and hoping for.
“Hello, beautiful lady.”
She would have recognized that voice anywhere. In automatic response, Tate’s heart jolted and began to beat just a little faster. “Commander, I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you? Good thoughts, I hope.”
“I was thinking I wanted to thank you for the flowers, but I didn’t know how to contact you. They were beautiful, so thank you.”
“I’m glad you liked them.” Evan’s pleasure reached out across the distance. “It was a bit of a challenge getting them to you, since I didn’t actually have your address, just a vague recollection of where your flat is located. But I believed getting them to you was necessary.”
“Why is that?”
“We’ve been flying simulated dogfights and strike missions for the past couple of weeks with a group of air force pilots from the UK and Saudi Arabia—a kind of high-speed hide-and-seek.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It has been. But it’s also been unbelievably challenging and intense with very little downtime, and that’s meant I haven’t had a chance to call you. And I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten about you. So I hoped the flowers would let you know I was thinking about you, and maybe when you looked at them, they might make you think of me. Maybe help you remember.”
“I’d have thought of you anyway,” Tate responded honestly. In fact, I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you. But I still don’t know what that means. I just know I’m not ready to tell you that, Commander. At least not just yet.
“I’m glad you’ve been thinking about me because I find myself free for the next seventy-two hours.” Evan’s voice dropped hypnotically as she continued. “And I’m really hoping you might see your way to spending some of those hours with me.”
“How many hours, exactly, were you hoping for, Commander?”
“As many as I can get. I’m not greedy, but you’ve got to know I’ll take all of them if I can.”
There was a pause the length of two heartbeats before Tate could bring herself to speak. Long enough to tell herself to slow down and think about what she was doing. Long enough for her to reject her own advice. “Do you want to meet at my flat? Do you remember how to get there?”
“I’ve a better idea. You meet me. I’m at the Ritz-Carlton. Room six one four.”
Tate closed her eyes and swallowed. “I understand room service at the Ritz is excellent.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I can’t get away for at least another hour—two at the most.”
“I can wait.”
“Then why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” Tate said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And maybe try to have a nap because I don’t think you’ll be getting much sleep tonight.”
Evan laughed. A low, sexy rumble.
Tate immediately felt herself become damp and fought to contain a moan. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
*
“I wasn’t supposed to be the one to join the navy,” Evan said when she finally shared her story with Tate. “It was supposed to be my brother, Alex. We’re twins, but it was meant to be his destiny, as the firstborn and only son.”
/> It was late in the evening and the light in the room had grown diffused, the shadows long. They had spent the better part of the previous day and night reconnecting. Patience forgotten, they had come together hungrily, quickly sliding into each other’s skin. Hands touching, bodies straining, mouths greedy for more.
Now they sat cross-legged on the bed in a tumble of sex-warmed, twisted sheets while sharing a bottle of wine. Evan noted with amusement that on an empty stomach, the effects of the smooth merlot were nearly instantaneous, leaving her feeling faintly lightheaded.
But, strangely and maybe for the first time, she wanted a woman—she wanted Tate—to know, to understand who she was. The wine simply made it easier to talk.
In vino veritas…In wine there is truth.
“I’m not sure how much of this is public knowledge, but as far back as you want to go, every generation of Kanes has served their country in the military. Specifically, in the navy. My father served just as his father did and his father’s father before him. Generation after generation, good little sailors all.”
“Okay.” There was a faint echo of confusion in Tate’s voice. “But—”
Evan shrugged. “But when it came time for my father’s son to step up and continue the time-honored tradition, sadly Alex turned out to be a poor candidate for military service.”
“Because he’s gay?”
Evan silently studied Tate, measured. “You’ve been doing research,” she chided softly. “That’s cheating.”
Tate flushed. Her lips parted, and for an instant, just the tip of her tongue showed between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”
Over the rim of her nearly empty wineglass, Evan watched Tate’s eyes drop as she looked away. “It’s okay, Tate,” she said, keeping her voice low and even. No censure. “You’re a reporter. I would think it’s in your DNA, and I should have expected no less.”
Putting the wineglass down on the small bedside table, she closed her eyes and held up a hand, allowing a long moment to pass in silence as she gathered her thoughts. “So, yes, because he was gay, but it was more than that,” she said. “You’ve got to remember ten years ago, open homosexuality was still banned in the US military, and Alex knew he’d never be able to go back in the closet. He’d been out since he turned fifteen, and by the time he turned twenty he was completely and proudly open about his life, had fallen madly in love, and was in the midst of establishing a solid reputation as an artist.”
“In other words, he didn’t exactly fit into the military mold,” Tate summarized succinctly.
“Right.”
“But weren’t you also—? Or didn’t you know?”
“Oh, I knew.” Evan smiled wryly. “But after the challenges my parents were put through dealing with Alex’s very public coming out, mostly because of Althea’s political aspirations, it was decided—I decided—it would be best for everyone if I just remained discreet.”
“That had to be hard for you.”
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice, and at first it seemed so damned inauthentic. But I quickly realized the only thing that really mattered was the people who were important to me knew the truth. My family. My friends. And when the whole family drama began about who would serve in the military, it proved to be rather fortunate. I knew Alex would never survive any of it. Certainly not life in the navy. But I knew I could.”
“What did Alex have to say?”
“He wanted me to tell our parents that neither of us was prepared to fulfill what was in his opinion an outdated family tradition.”
“But you couldn’t do that to them,” Tate guessed, quiet acceptance in her voice.
Evan felt slightly stunned by her statement—and maybe a little pleased. “No, I couldn’t. So I enlisted.”
“What happened?”
“My father, needless to say, was shocked when he found out what I’d done. He told me he understood why I did it and said he was proud of me. But he also knew I would end up serving in a war zone, and he begged me to do whatever I had to do to stay alive.”
“And your mother?”
“Althea was another story,” Evan said reluctantly. “She refused to accept my decision. We had words. Angry words. And then we simply stopped speaking.”
“I don’t get it. What was the problem?”
“I think, in part, the problem is rooted in an archaic belief she has that military service is an obligation meant to be fulfilled by the male side of the family. Someone must have forgotten to tell her a Y chromosome isn’t really a requirement. Go figure.” She gave Tate an irreverent grin. “But, more importantly, Althea’s always needed to be in control, and I dared to embrace a different kind of life than she envisioned for me.”
“What was it she wanted for you?”
Evan thought about it then shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. Something in the foreign service, I suppose. We never actually talked about it, and by the time she found out I’d enlisted, it was much too late for her to do anything about it.”
“How the hell could she not know what you were doing?”
“Tate,” Evan began gently, “I don’t know what kind of family environment you grew up in—”
“I’d say it was a pretty ordinary one. I’m an only child. My father’s a doctor, has a busy family practice. My mother works for my dad, manages his office. But, mostly, at least while I was growing up, she was a stay-at-home mom. She attended every parent-teacher meeting and went to every basketball and softball game I ever played.”
She searched Evan’s face for a second or two then sighed. “I know you’re going to argue your mother was different, and I get that. I’ve met her. But, Jesus, Evan. She was still your mother.”
Evan gave an eloquent shrug and smiled in spite of herself. “The definition of motherhood is subject to debate when it comes to Althea. It’s not that she didn’t love us. She did. Alex and I always knew that. But her priorities were always a little different. And the point is life happened. Politics happened.”
“Politics trumped motherhood?”
“What can I say? Althea was busy being the attorney general and weighing her options for higher office. As far as she was concerned, her job with her children was done. Alex was in San Francisco painting, and I was supposed to be safely tucked away in graduate school, not at Aviation Officer Candidate School.” She fell silent as she picked up her wine and finished it.
Tate shivered. “Well, I for one am glad you chose the path you took. Otherwise I never would have met you. We wouldn’t be…here. Like this. But maybe you could have chosen something that doesn’t have you landing a jet at night on a moving runway the size of a postage stamp in the middle of the Arabian Sea. Or maybe didn’t put you directly—”
“In the line of fire?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You do know your job’s dangerous too, don’t you?”
“Of course, but I try not to think about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to function. But while we haven’t known each other long, I know I don’t want to report how Lieutenant Commander Evan Kane, the daughter of the secretary of state, was shot down while flying a mission.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Evan said quietly. “I really am. I don’t mean to put you in that position.”
“Do the risks bother you?”
“Not really. I know there’s no margin for error, but I’ve trained for every contingency, and I know I’m doing something that matters. It also happens I love to fly. I’ve had my private pilot’s license since I was seventeen, and if I had to join the navy, it just made sense to do it as an aviator. Just think of all the cool planes I get to play with.”
She saw a glimmer of a grin on Tate’s face.
“And, truthfully, I wasn’t really thinking about risk when I made my decision. I was simply trying to find a solution I could live with, while ensuring Alex didn’t have to compromise who he is.” She hesitated before continuing more slowly. “But I also think it’s part of why I’ve avoided getting in
volved with anyone. At least until I could finish my service commitment. Geography alone can be a relationship killer, and I never thought it would be fair to anyone.”
Tate gave her a sharp look, her eyes searching, and there was a subtle change in her expression as she held her gaze. “And now?”
“And now,” Evan repeated, and tipped her head back to grin wickedly. “Now the clock’s ticking and I’m coming down to the wire. Tick-tock. It won’t be long until I complete my service commitment. Close enough to start thinking about all the possibilities life has to offer beyond the navy, don’t you think?”
She could feel Tate’s heartbeat pick up, see it accelerate in the pulse at her throat. “Could be,” Tate murmured and quickly changed the subject. “Have you really been flying since you were seventeen?”
“Twelve, actually. But the law said I couldn’t get my license until I turned seventeen. I’ll have you know I restored a 1942 Tiger Moth from the ground up while I was doing my undergrad. I still have it, although it’s in storage.”
“Am I supposed to know what a Tiger Moth is?”
“It’s a two-seater biplane. They were originally built by de Havilland in the 1930s and 1940s and used as trainers by the British Royal Air Force.”
“A biplane? Like the Wright brothers flew?” Tate’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy?”
“What are you implying? You think it’s okay for the US Navy to trust me with an eighty-five million dollar aircraft, but I can’t be trusted to fly an old biplane? Keep that up, McKenna, and I won’t take you flying when we get home.”
Tate blinked. “You’re going to take me flying?”
Evan nodded and gave Tate a flicker of a grin.
“When we get home?”
“You’re not planning on staying in Bahrain forever, are you?”
