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Navy Wife
Debbie Macomber
Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisImpulsive, wounded, vulnerable, Lindy Kyle was unprepared for a roommate like Rush Callaghan.Strong, sensitive and sexy, the temporarily dry-docked naval offi cer was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man… in a husband. But Rush placed duty to his country above all else.Though he and Lindy were swept away on a tide of passion, he was called back to sea. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder—but will their marriage survive their partings?



Navy Wife
New York Times Bestselling Author

Debbie Macomber


www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Impulsive, wounded, vulnerable, Lindy Kyle was unprepared for a roommate like Rush Callaghan. Strong, sensitive and sexy, the temporarily dry-docked naval officer was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man…in a husband.
But Rush placed duty to his country above all else. Though he and Lindy were swept away on a tide of passion, he was called back to sea. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder—but will their marriage survive their partings?
Dedicated to the women behind the men who “go down to the sea in ships.”
The backbone of the Navy—the Navy wife.
Special thanks to
Sandy Campanelli,
wife of Command Master Chief John Campanelli,
USS Nimitz
Lee Knichel,
wife of Lieutenant Commander Ray Knichel,
USS Nimitz
Debbie Korrell,
wife of Chief Steven Korrell, USS Alaska
Rose Marie Harris,
wife of MMCM Ralph Harris, retired, U.S. Navy

Contents
Chapter 1 (#ubf0cfbcd-d0e6-546a-9a66-1be259785def)
Chapter 2 (#u0806226b-4937-5c7f-aaeb-efb2193f3ee9)
Chapter 3 (#u6c70d541-0714-559f-851a-f2d1a687a541)
Chapter 4 (#udf146cb3-ed06-5e55-8de6-abbaed88a376)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1
After walking over to the window in her brother’s empty apartment, Lindy Kyle paused and let her tired gaze rest on the view of downtown Seattle. Dusk was settling over the steel jungle, and giant shadows from the skyscrapers fell into the maze of concrete across the picturesque waterfront. In another mood Lindy would have been struck by the intricate beauty of what lay before her, but not now.
Seattle, as Steve had claimed, really was a lovely city. When she’d arrived, she’d been so preoccupied with trying to find the address of the apartment and the appropriate parking space for her Volkswagen Rabbit in the lot behind the building that she hadn’t taken the time to notice anything around her.
Now she sighed at the panorama that lay before her. “I’m actually here,” she said, mainly to hear herself speak. She’d come to expect a lot from one western city. She felt as an immigrant might have years ago, sailing into New York Harbor, seeking a new way of life and freedom from the shackles of the past. Lindy had been bound, too, in the chains of grief and unhappiness.
Dramatically she posed, pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, her right hand held high as if gripping a lighted torch, her left firmly clasping imaginary stone tablets. “Okay, Seattle, give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Lindy sucked in a shaky breath and battled back tears. “Seattle, calm my fears. Clear my head.” She dropped her arms and swallowed at the growing knot in her throat. “Heal my heart,” she added in a broken whisper. “Please, heal my heart….”
Exhaling raggedly, she dropped her arm and admitted it was too much to expect—even from a place that had once been honored as the most livable city in the United States. Far too much to ask.
Suddenly exhausted, Lindy picked up her suitcase and headed down the narrow hallway toward the two bedrooms. She opened the first door and stood in the doorway examining the room. The closet, which was partly open, displayed an organized row of civilian clothes hanging inside, crisp and neat. A framed picture or two rested on the dresser, but Lindy didn’t pay attention to those. This had to be the bedroom of Rush Callaghan, her brother’s roommate. Currently both men were at sea serving six-month tours of duty. Steve was an officer aboard the submarine Atlantis, somewhere in the Pacific upholding God, country and the American flag. Lindy had no idea where Rush was and didn’t particularly care. Men weren’t exactly her favorite subject at the moment.
She closed the bedroom door and moved on to the next room. A dresser drawer hung open, mismatched socks draped over its edge. Bulky-knit sweaters were carelessly tossed on the ledge above the closet and shoes were heaped in a pile on the floor.
“Home, sweet home,” Lindy said with a soft smile. She really was fond of her brother, and although he was nearly ten years older, her childhood had been marked with memories of his wit and warmth. She laid her suitcase across the unmade bed, opened it and reached for Steve’s letter. “Come to Seattle,” he’d written in his lazy, uneven scrawl. “Forget the past and make a new life for yourself.” Steve had had firsthand experience with pain, Lindy knew, and she respected his judgment. He’d survived the emotional trauma of divorce and seemed to have come out of it with a new maturity.
“You’ll know which bedroom is mine,” Steve’s letter continued. “I can’t remember the last time I changed the sheets so you might want to do that before you crash.”
Crashing certainly sounded inviting, Lindy mused, sinking with a sigh onto the edge of the unmade bed.
Although she’d nearly memorized Steve’s words, Lindy read completely through the letter once more. Clean sheets were in the hall closet, he explained, and she decided to tackle making the bed as soon as she’d unpacked her things. The washer and dryer were in a small laundry room off the kitchen, the letter went on to say.
When she finished reading, Lindy placed Steve’s instructions on top of the dresser. She stripped off the sheets, carried the bedding into the laundry room and started the washing machine.
When the phone rang it caught her off guard, and she widened her eyes and placed her hand over her heart as shock waves washed over her.
It rang one more time before she decided to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Lindy, it’s your mother.”
“Oh, hi, Mom.” Lindy smiled at her parents’ habit of identifying themselves. She’d been able to recognize her own family’s voices since she was a child.
“I take it you’ve arrived safely. Honey, you should have phoned—your father and I’ve been worried.”
Lindy sighed. “Mom, I just walked in the door not more than ten minutes ago. I was planning to phone after I fixed myself something to eat.”
“Did your car give you any problems?”
“None.”
“Good.” Her mother sounded relieved.
“Everything’s fine—just the way I said it would be,” Lindy added.
“What about money?”
“Mom, I’m doing great.” A slight exaggeration, but Lindy wasn’t desperate—at least she wouldn’t be if she found a job reasonably soon. The unemployment problem was one she hoped to correct first thing in the morning.
“I talked to your Uncle Henry in Kansas City and he said you should think about applying at Boeing…that airplane company. He claims they’re always looking for someone with a degree in computer science.”
“I’ll do that right away,” Lindy answered in an effort to appease her mother.
“You’ll let us know when you’ve found something?”
“Yes, Mom. I promise.”
“And don’t be shy about asking for money. Your father and I—”
“Mom, please don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just great.”
Her mother expelled her breath in a long, anxious sigh. “I do worry about you, sweetie. You’ve been so terribly unhappy. I can’t tell you how disappointed your father and I are in that young man of yours.”
“Paul isn’t mine anymore.” Lindy’s voice trembled a little, but she needed to say it out loud every now and then just to remind herself of the fact. For four years she’d linked all thoughts of her future with Paul; being without him felt as though a large part of herself was missing.
“I saw his mother the other day, and I’ll have you know I took a great deal of pleasure in looking the other way,” Grace Kyle continued, with more than a hint of righteous indignation.
“What happened between Paul and me isn’t Mrs. Abram’s fault.”
“No. But she obviously didn’t raise her son right—not if he could do something this under-handed and despicable to you.”
“Mom, do you mind if we don’t talk about Paul anymore? Ever?” Even the mention of his name brought with it a sharp pain, yet part of her was still hungering for news of him. Someday, Lindy vowed, she’d look back on these awful months and smile at the memory. Someday, maybe. But not now.
“Lindy, of course I won’t talk about Paul if you don’t want me to. I was being insensitive—forgive me, sweetie.”
“It’s all right, Mom.”
A short, throbbing silence followed. “You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Lindy answered and nodded. “I promise.”
After a few more minutes of filling her parents in on the news of her trip, Lindy replaced the receiver. The washing machine went into the spin cycle behind her, and she tossed a glance over her shoulder. That was the way her world felt lately, as if she were being put through a churning wash. The only question that remained to be answered was if she’d come out of this drip-dry and wrinkle free.
Rush Callaghan stood on the bridge of the USS Mitchell, a pair of binoculars gripped tightly in his hands. He paused to suck in a deep breath of tangy salt air and sighed his appreciation for the clear, clean scent of it. Being on the open seas stirred his blood back to life after three long months of shore duty. He relaxed, home at last, as the huge l,092-foot-long aircraft carrier cut a wide path out of Puget Sound and into the dark green waters of the north Pacific. Rush was more than glad. He had recognized from the time he was a boy that his destiny lay on the swirling waters of the world’s oceans. He’d been born on the sea and he’d known ever since that this was where he belonged, where he felt truly alive.
Rush had dedicated his life to the sea, and in turn she had become his mistress. She was often demanding and unreasonable, but Rush wouldn’t have had it any other way. A gentle breeze carried with it a cool, soothing mist. The spray came at him like the gentle, caressing fingers of a woman riffling through his hair and pressing her body against his own. Rush grinned at the picturesque image, knowing his lover well. She was gently welcoming him back into her arms, but Rush wasn’t easily fooled. His mistress was fickle. Another time, possibly soon, she would lash out at him and harshly slap his face with cold, biting wind and rain. Her icy fingers would sting him with outrage. It was little wonder, Rush thought, that he’d come to think of the sea as his lover, since she often played the role.
When the Mitchell had pulled out of the Bremerton shipyard eighteen hours earlier, Rush had left nothing to tie him to the shore. No wife, no sweetheart, nothing except a Seattle apartment where he stored his worldly goods. He wasn’t looking to build any bridges that would link him to the mainland. He’d learned early in his career that a wife and family weren’t meant for him. If the waters of the world were his mistress, then the navy would be his wife. There’d been a time when he’d hoped to divide his life, but no more.
A quick exchange of angry words followed by an outburst of disgust from his fellow officer, Jeff Dwyer, caught Rush’s attention and he lowered his binoculars.
“Problems?” he asked when Jeff joined him on the bridge.
Jeff’s mouth tightened and he nodded. “The captain’s just ordered us back.”
“What the hell?” Rush felt a hot surge of anger pulse through him. “Why?”
“There’s something wrong with the catapults. Apparently maintenance doesn’t have the necessary parts to repair the problem.”
Rush swore under his breath. The catapults were used to launch the Hawkeyes, Intruders, Tomcats and other aircraft from the carrier runway. They were vital equipment for any assignment at sea.
Fortunately the squadrons flying in from two navy airfields on the West Coast—a hundred planes were scheduled to rendezvous with the Mitchell—had yet to arrive. As chief navigator it was Rush’s job to guide the carrier through the waters; now it was up to him to head the Mitchell back to the shipyard.
“I’ve already sent out word to the airfields,” Jeff informed him. “They’ve turned the planes back.”
Frustration built up in Rush like a tidal wave. After three months shore duty and a mere eighteen hours at sea they had to bring the Mitchell home to port with her tail between her legs.
“How long?” Rush asked between clenched teeth.
“Maintenance doesn’t have a figure yet, but if it’s as bad as it looks, we could be sitting on our butts for at least a week.”
Rush spat a four-letter word.
“My sentiments exactly,” Jeff answered.
Rush let himself into the dark apartment and set his seabag just inside the door. The way things were working out he could be here awhile. The realization angered him every time he thought about it. He moved into the kitchen and set the six-pack of cold beer on the counter. He rarely indulged himself this way, but tonight he was in the mood to get good and drunk.
Not bothering to turn on any of the lights, Rush took one chilled aluminum can and carried it with him into the living room, pulling off the tab as he went. Standing in front of the wide picture window, he offered a silent toast to the glittering lights of the waterfront several blocks below. He took a large swig of beer. Tonight something cold and alcoholic suited his temperament.
He took another long drink, sat on the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table. What he needed was a woman. One sexy as hell, with big breasts and wide hips to bury himself in—one who would relieve his angry frustration. Rush frowned. The crude thought wasn’t like him. He rarely allowed his mind to indulge in such primitive fantasies. But tonight, after watching weeks of planning and months of hard work go down the drain, Rush wasn’t in the mood for niceties.
Against his will, Rush remembered the look in his friend Jeff’s eyes when he’d stepped off the gangplank. Jeff had been hurrying to get home to his wife, Susan. Rush didn’t need much of an imagination to know what Jeff was doing about now—and it wasn’t drinking cold beer in a dark living room. He allowed himself to grin. Jeff and Susan. Now that was one marriage Rush wouldn’t have bet good money on. But Susan Dwyer had pleasantly surprised him. When Jeff had left Bremerton earlier in the week, there’d been no tears in her eyes, only smiles. She’d been a good wife to Jeff from the first. Susan wasn’t a clinger or a complainer; the only bonds she’d wrapped around her husband had been in his heart.
Rush had seen subtle changes in his friend since his marriage. He’d been looking for major ones. Over the years Rush had witnessed the power a woman could wield over a sailor’s life often enough to recognize the symptoms. But Susan Dwyer hadn’t been like some of the others, and Rush had silently admired her—and envied Jeff. His friend had gotten damn lucky to find a woman like Susan. Luckier than Rush…. But then Rush had given up trying.
The sound of someone moving behind him jerked Rush into action and he vaulted off the sofa. The bathroom door closed and he heard the rush of running water. What the hell! Someone was in the apartment. It had to be Steve. He moved down the hallway, looked inside his roomate’s bedroom and cocked his eyebrows in astonishment. A silk robe was draped across the end of the bed and the room was littered with female paraphernalia.
Rush released a slow, exasperated breath. He’d been afraid something like this might happen. Steve was still working his way through the pain of his divorce and it had left him vulnerable. Rush was all too familiar with the seductive wiles a woman could use to cloud a man’s better judgment. And now it appeared that some schemer was taking advantage of his friend’s generous nature, planting herself in their apartment. Apparently Steve was still susceptible to being tricked and used. Well, Rush wouldn’t stand for it. A surge of anger at the thought of someone taking advantage of his friend’s kind heart made him clench his fists.
He’d gladly handle this situation, he decided. He’d get rid of her, and if Steve asked for an explanation later, Rush had the perfect excuse. After all they had an agreement about this place and it didn’t include inviting women to move in. His mouth tightened into a narrow line. From what little he could see, this one had made herself right at home. Well, no more.
With beer in hand, he leaned against the wall, crossed his legs and waited. Within a couple of minutes the bathroom door opened and the woman stepped out. Her dark eyes rounded before she let out a soft gasp.
Obviously startled half out of her wits, the woman’s hand flew to her heart, gripping the lacy edge of her pajamas. “Who are you?”
Dear God, wouldn’t you know it, Rush groaned inwardly. This wasn’t just any woman, but one as sexy as the one he’d been fantasizing about, with nice, round breasts and long, inviting legs. One look and Rush could understand why his friend had set her up in this cozy arrangement. Lord knew she was tempting enough. Her sheer baby-doll pajamas revealed peekaboo nipples, firm hips and shapely legs. It took him a full second to realize her hair was dark and nothing like that of the blondes that usually appealed to his friend.
She continued to stare at him, eyes as round as golf balls, her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. She opened her mouth and stammered, “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Other than the small gasp, Rush noted, she revealed no real fear. “Isn’t that supposed to be my question?” he taunted, and his mouth twisted into a cool, appraising smile. She didn’t make an effort to cover herself, but perhaps she wasn’t aware of how the muted moonlight played over her pajamas, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her full breasts. Then again, maybe she was.
“You must be Rush.”
“So Steve mentioned me?” That surprised him.
“Yes…of course.” The woman worked her way past him and retrieved her robe from the foot of the bed, quickly donning it. She made an effort to disguise her uneasiness, but Rush noted that she was trembling. Even from where he was standing he could see that her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. She glanced his way once, silently appealing to him with those huge brown eyes of hers, but Rush was unmoved. If she thought to practice her charms on him, then she could think again. Steve Kyle was his friend and he wasn’t about to let his buddy be used by this woman or anyone else.
As nonchalantly as possible Rush followed her into the bedroom, ignoring the soft scent of jasmine. “How long have you been here?” Her clothes hung in the closet and her things were lined atop the dresser. He lifted the sleeve of a blouse and let the smooth feel of silk run through his fingers. From the look of things, she’d settled right in as though she owned the place. Perhaps she assumed she did; but she’d learn soon enough.
The woman didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she moved out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and turned on the lights. “Only a couple of days.”
“You didn’t waste any time, did you?”
She looked at him as though she hadn’t understood his question. “No.”
He snickered. “I thought not.”
Her gaze left his and rested on the partially empty six-pack of beer. The sight of that seemed to make her all the more nervous and she rubbed the palms of her hands together as though to ward off an unexpected chill. “You’ve been drinking.” Her words sounded like an accusation. The woman’s judgmental attitude only served to amuse Rush. He had to give her credit, though; under like circumstances he didn’t know if he could have exercised such an impudent spirit.
In response to her statement he reached for another beer. His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Care to join me?” he asked, gesturing toward the four remaining cans.
“No thanks.” She tightened the cinch on her robe and squared her shoulders.
“Somehow I didn’t think you would.” Rush tossed his empty can into the garbage and reached for another. More to irritate her than anything, he took a long, slow drink, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat.
She watched him and braced her hands against the back of the counter. “How long will you be…staying?”
She had one hell of a nerve. “I think I should be the one asking questions, don’t you?”
“I—I suppose.”
She continued to stare at him with those wide, appealing eyes, and Rush struggled to ignore the false innocence of her silent entreaty.
“I take it Steve didn’t let you know I was coming.”
“No, he forgot to mention you.” It was apparent to Rush that his roommate probably had no intention of letting him know. It would have been easy enough to let the matter slide since Steve would be returning from sea duty before Rush was due back into port.
“I’m Lindy.”
He didn’t acknowledge her greeting.
As though to cover her embarrassment, she opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk.
Rush watched her actions carefully and noted that the inside of the fridge was well stocked. The observation only served to irritate him more. Knowing how generous Steve was, Rush didn’t doubt that he’d given her the money to get set up in the apartment.
Lindy poured herself a glass and replaced the milk. “This does make things a bit awkward, doesn’t it?”
Again Rush ignored her. Instead of answering her question he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, nursing his beer. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was more than just pretty. Delicate, he decided, with a soft injured look about her. Damn, he fathomed better than he would have liked what must have led Steve to invite this woman to move in. In addition to the fragile beauty, she was soft and feminine—the kind of woman a lonely sailor imagines sleeping in his bed, waiting for him. Rush understood all too well, but he didn’t like the idea of some woman using his friend. Not when Steve was ripe for pain.
She took a quick swallow of the cold milk, her soft, dark eyes hardly leaving his. Rush was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her anywhere near this apartment. As far as he was concerned she was trouble with a capital T. She must have sensed this because he noticed her fingers tighten around the glass. Obviously she didn’t plan to make this easy.
“It would help if we could reach some kind of agreement to share the place—at least until you leave again,” she said, looking both embarrassed and uneasy.
His slow answering smile was as cool as Rush could manage. He wasn’t about to let a woman sway him out of doing what he must, unpleasant as the task seemed. “Listen, honey,” he said brusquely, “the only one of us who’s going to be leaving is you. And the sooner the better. So pack your bags; I want you gone before morning.”

Chapter 2
So Rush Callaghan was kicking her out of the apartment, Lindy mused. Terrific. What else could go wrong? The answer to that was something she didn’t want to find out. Oh Lord. She’d known Steve’s invitation was too good to be true. Nothing was ever going to be right for her again—she’d been sabotaged by fate while still in her prime….
A quick calculation of her limited funds suggested that she could possibly last two weeks if she rented a cheap hotel room and ate sparingly. Two weeks and she’d be forced to return to Minneapolis a failure. The thought wasn’t a comforting one. Her parents would gladly take her in, but their excessive concern right now was more suffocating than she could bear.
With deliberate calm Lindy drank the last of her milk, carried the glass to the sink and rinsed it out. All the while her thoughts were a churning mass of wary doubts.
She would leave, she decided, because Rush Callaghan had decreed that she must. But she could see no reason to hurry. Simply because he was an officer used to giving orders and having them followed didn’t mean she had to jump at his every command.
“Did you hear me?” Rush asked, his narrowed gaze following her deliberate movements.
“I’ll be out before morning,” was the only answer she would give him, and she forced those words to come out as stiffly as starched sheets.
It gave Lindy fleeting satisfaction to witness the surprise in Rush’s eyes. He stared at her almost as if he’d been looking forward to an argument, to sharpening his wits on hers. Apparently he’d thought she would stand up and issue some kind of challenge. Well, Lindy just wasn’t in the mood to put up much of a fight. If he wanted her out, then fine, she’d pack her bags and leave.
Wordlessly she opened the dishwasher and set the glass inside. His eyes followed her suspiciously, apparently disliking her cool compliance. For the first time he looked unsettled, as though it was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that she could stay until morning. But if the thought crossed his mind, that was as far as it went. He said nothing. Lindy supposed he was right. She could see no reason to prolong the inevitable. But damn it all, she’d never felt so helpless and lost in her life. A condemned man walking to the hangman’s noose had as many options as she seemed to have at the moment.
Lindy turned and left the kitchen. She tried to walk away proudly, but her shoulders sagged with abject defeat. She heard the kitchen chair scrape against the floor as Rush stood and followed her.
Standing in the doorway to her bedroom, Rush glanced at his watch. Lindy pulled out her suitcase from under the bed and looked in the direction of her clock radio, noting the late hour.
As though it went against his better judgment, Rush stuck his hand in his uniform pocket and murmured. “Listen, tomorrow morning is soon enough.”
“Not for me, it isn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind,” Lindy said with a righteous sigh.
“Lord, how like a woman,” Rush murmured to the ceiling, the words tight and controlled. “She tosses a dart at me and then refuses to acknowledge it. What she really wants me to know is that she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with me. Well, honeybunch, the feeling is mutual!”
Some of Lindy’s control slipped at his taunt, and she angrily jerked a blouse off a hanger. “I don’t suppose you stopped to think that I didn’t move in here without an invitation. Steve invited me. I have his letter right here to prove it if you’d take the time to read—”
“Unfortunately Steve didn’t clear this cozy little arrangement with me,” he interrupted, “and I have no intention of sharing this place with you or any other female.”
“You men think you’re really something, don’t you?” Lindy cried, jerking yet another blouse from a hanger. “You like being in control, dictating whatever you wish on nothing more than a whim.”
He looked surprised that she’d revealed any emotion. Good heavens, just what did he expect from her? Lindy didn’t know, and at this point she simply didn’t care. When she’d finished emptying her closet, she whirled around to face him.
“All along Steve’s been telling me what a great friend you are, a terrific guy. You should meet him, Lindy. I know you’d like him,” she said sarcastically, mimicking her brother’s praise. She cast Rush a disparaging look. “Some roommate you turned out to be. I’ll tell you one thing, mister…”
“Spare me, would you?”
“No.” Lindy slammed the lid of her suitcase closed. “You’re all alike. Every last one of you is just like Paul.”
“Paul?”
Her index finger flew at his chest and she heaved back in indignation. “Don’t you dare mention his name to me. Ever!”
“Lady, you brought him up, I didn’t!”
“That was a mistake. But then I seem to be making a lot of those lately.”
“Your biggest one was moving in here.”
“Tell me about it,” she returned with a sneer. “Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.” She yanked the suitcase off the bed and reached for her coat, preparing to leave. Boldly she paused and raised her eyes to meet his. With her lips curved upward, she regarded him with open disdain. “Steve is really going to be upset about this.”
“I’ll deal with him later.” The look he was giving her said that if anyone had a right to be angry, it was him. As though Steve had been the one to let him down.
With a carefully manufactured calm, Lindy stopped at the front door, set down her suitcase and slipped the key to the apartment off her chain.
Rush held out his hand and she pressed it into his waiting palm. Once again he looked as if he wanted to say that she could stay until morning. She didn’t know what stopped him—probably his pride. Men had to have their pride. No doubt he was aware that she’d take delight in throwing the invitation back in his face.
Lindy watched as Rush’s dark eyes narrowed, then she sadly shook her head. For years she’d been hearing Rush’s name exalted. According to Steve, Rush Callaghan was both an officer and a gentleman. In the space of fifteen minutes, Lindy had quickly discovered he was neither.
“Bad judgment must run in the family,” she said, more for her own ears than his. “If Steve thinks you’re so wonderful, then my mistake about Paul seems like a minor miscalculation of character.” With that she picked up her lone suitcase and pulled open the front door.
Rush’s hand reached out and gripped her shoulder, stopping her. “Family? What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Steve Kyle, my brother. You know, the man who pays half the rent for this place? The one who wrote and claimed I was welcome to live here until I found a job?”
His fingers closed painfully over her shoulder and his eyes simmered with impatient anger. “Why the hell didn’t you say you were Steve’s sister?” He reached for her suitcase, stripped it from her hands and jerked her back inside the apartment. Rush slammed the door shut after her and studied her as though seeing her for the first time.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know!” she shouted back. “Just who the hell did you think I was?” The answer to that was all too obvious and a heated flash of bright color invaded her neck and cheeks. “Oh, honestly, that’s…disgusting.”
Rush raked his fingers through his hair in an agitated movement and walked a few steps past her before turning around to confront her once more. “Listen, I didn’t know. Honest.”
“Does this mean I’m welcome to spend the night in my own brother’s apartment?”
He let that taunt pass. “Yes, of course.”
“How generous of you.”
Rush picked up the suitcase and carried it back into Steve’s bedroom, his jerky movements revealing both his chagrin and his anger. Lindy followed him, no longer sure what to make of this man. She knew Steve’s invitation had been a spur of the moment thing. The two men easily could have gotten their wires crossed. From experience Lindy knew how letters could get held up in the military, and it was likely that Rush hadn’t known she was planning on moving in. Still that didn’t excuse his arrogant attitude toward her.
Lindy was two steps behind the man who Steve claimed was his best friend. Rush set the suitcase back on top of the mattress and hesitated before turning around to face her once more.
“I apologize. Okay?”
She answered him with an abrupt nod. His apology was followed by a short, uneasy silence. Lindy didn’t know what to say. After a tense moment, she murmured. “I think the entire incident is best forgotten.”
“Good.” Rush buried his hands in his pockets, looking as uncomfortable as Lindy felt. “Of course you’re welcome to stay in the apartment as long as you like. I’m hoping to be out of here by the end of the week.”
“I thought you’d already left. I mean…”
Apparently he knew what she meant. “I had, but there were some mechanical difficulties and the Mitchell is back in the shipyard for repairs.”
“For a week?” After nearly drowning in love and concern from her parents, Lindy had been looking forward to living alone. Well, so much for that—at least for now.
“Possibly longer, but don’t worry about it. You’re welcome to stay,” Rush murmured, still looking uncomfortable.
Lindy guessed that he didn’t often make apologies. “Thanks, but I have no intention of burdening you any longer than necessary. As soon as I’ve found a job, I’ll be on my way.”
“’Night,” Rush said abruptly, taking a step in retreat.
“Good night,” Lindy returned with a weak, dispirited smile.
Rush walked out of the room and Lindy closed it in his wake and leaned against the frame. Her mind was whirling. She knew even before she climbed between the sheets that she wasn’t likely to sleep any time soon. Rest, like contentment, had been a fleeting commodity these past few weeks.
Rush smelled fresh coffee when he woke the next morning. With some reluctance, he climbed out of bed and dressed. He’d made a heel of himself and he wasn’t eager to face Steve’s sister with his head throbbing and his mouth tasting like something floating in a skid-row gutter. After he’d left Lindy the night before, he’d tried to sleep, given up an hour later and gone back to drink the rest of the sixpack of beer and watch television. Now he was suffering the consequences of his folly.
He sat for a moment on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. For years he’d heard stories about his friend’s younger sister. How intelligent she was, how clever, how pretty. Steve was more than fond of his sister. He adored her and now Rush had gone and insulted her, and in the process maligned his best friend. He should have realized that Steve wasn’t fool enough to set a woman up in their apartment. Hell, Steve was still so much in love with his ex-wife that he couldn’t see straight.
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 plant 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.”
“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.
When Lindy spoke her voice was husky with emotion, and her heart began a heavy muted pounding against her rib cage. “I lied.”
Rush’s eyes clouded, then hardened, and Lindy felt the dread crowd its way into her throat. Rush wasn’t the type of man who would take something like this lightly.
“What did you lie about?”
“I got offered a job today. I turned it down.” With her long tapered nails biting into the flesh of her palms, she explained the circumstances. “I thought you should know because…well, because I plan to rent my own place as soon as I can after I find something. But it looks like I could be around awhile.”
A smile flickered over his lips and he appeared to relax a little. “I can stand it if you can.”
“That’s debatable.”
They were both grinning then, and Lindy felt the uneasy tension seep from her limbs. Now that she’d explained things to Rush she felt much better. In fact, possibly for the first time, she was completely at ease with him. It wasn’t that he intimidated her so much as he challenged her. She felt as if she had to be constantly on her guard with him. Watch her step, keep the peace—that sort of thing.
“You must be hungry.” she said, turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll get dinner going.”
“Lindy.”
She twisted around, her eyes questioning.
“Since it’s Friday and we’ve both had a trying week, how about going out for a pizza?”
The minute Rush issued the invitation, he was convinced he’d done the wrong thing. His biggest concern was that he was giving Lindy the wrong impression. When the repairs on the Mitchell were finished he’d be leaving, and he didn’t want to give his best friend’s sister the idea that there could ever be anything romantic between them. The circumstances in which they were living were tempting enough, and here he was adding to the tension by deepening the relationship to something beyond their polite but strained friendship.
Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he’d suggested they go out. The last couple of nights he’d purposely left the apartment and sat in a bar on the waterfront, nursing a drink or two. The best way to deal with this awkward situation, he’d decided, was to stay away from Lindy as much as possible. Remove himself from temptation, so to speak. Because, damn it all, Lindy Kyle was one hell of a tempting morsel. Her young, firm body was ripe and it had been too long since he’d had a woman. Every time he was in the same room with her, he felt the charge of electricity arc between them. Until today, he’d been able to deal with it, and now he was purposely exposing them to God only knew what.
He wanted to be angry with her—needed it to dilute the effect she had on him. When she’d admitted she’d lied, he’d felt a reassuring irritation surging up inside him, rough and heated. As far as he was concerned, women weren’t exactly known for their integrity. Although disappointed in her, he’d made a conscious effort to control his ire, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to blow up at her.
And then she’d told him about turning down the job, her clear brown eyes soft and filled with contrition for having misled him. Her eager, young face had been as readable as a first-grade primer. She’d stood before him, so forthright and honest, and he’d felt something deep and fundamental move inside him. Before he’d even known what was happening, he’d offered to take her to dinner.
It was more than that, too. Steve’s letter had finally caught up with him, explaining what had happened to Lindy. The poor kid had been through a lot. Apparently she’d been deeply in love with this Paul Abrams, and she’d been crushed when he’d broken the engagement. Rush had been crippled by emotional pain once himself. He knew from personal experience how devastating letting go of a loved one could be.
After reading his friend’s long letter, Rush’s opinion of Lindy had altered. Not that he’d made any dyed-in-the-wool assumptions about her before the letter’s arrival. The fact was, he chose to think of her as little as possible. But after reading what Steve had written, he’d discovered that he admired Lindy for picking up the pieces of her life and forging ahead despite rejection and defeat.
Something else Steve had mentioned had strongly affected Rush. Throughout everything, Lindy hadn’t shed a tear. Her entire family continued to worry about her because she was taking everything far too calmly, holding up much too well. It wasn’t natural, Steve had claimed, sounding very much like the concerned older brother he was. Almost grudgingly, Rush found himself appreciating Lindy’s courage and unsinkable pride. Not so long ago he’d been left to deal with the trauma of a lost love. He could still remember the pitying looks sent his way after Cheryl. The effort and control it had demanded on his part to pretend nothing was wrong, that losing Cheryl didn’t really matter, had drained him. When all the while, every breath he drew had been a reminder that he’d been a fool to ever have trusted the woman. And worse, to have loved her.
Rush could identify with Lindy’s attitude all too well. He would have walked over hot coals before he’d show his pain to anyone, friend or foe. Apparently she felt the same way. Maybe that was the reason he found himself wanting to spend more time with her, looking for a way to be her friend.
A Michael Jackson song blared loudly from the pizza parlor’s jukebox and, much to her surprise, Lindy found herself tapping her foot to the music and wanting to snap her fingers. Rush sat across the booth from her, looking more relaxed and at ease than she could ever remember seeing him. A tall, frosty pitcher of beer rested in the middle of the table.
Lindy had already downed two thick mugs of ale and was feeling the dizzying, warm effects of the alcohol. Rarely had she tasted better pizza, and she’d pigged down three enormous slices, astonishing them both. Now she felt content and happy, two states of mind that had been sadly lacking in her life recently.
“If there was a big enough floor space, I’d want to dance,” she told Rush, who instantly looked relieved—no doubt because he’d chosen a restaurant without one. Lindy giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“You!”
“I’m glad you find me so amusing.”
“Don’t take it personally. It’s just that it feels so good to sit back and relax like this.”
“That amuses you?”
“Yes, because you look like you’ve just been granted a pardon from the governor because you don’t have to dance. And something else.”
His dark brows shot up. “There’s more?”
“Oh yes. For the first time since we met, I don’t feel I have to keep my wits sharpened around you.” She said it with a smile, hoping her good mood would cut any sting from her words. “In case you didn’t know it, Rush Callaghan, you can be one hell of an arrogant jerk. Imagine posting a schedule to use the bathroom!”
His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in mock consternation, and still he looked every inch the sturdy, capable naval officer she knew him to be.
“There are a few truths about yourself I could enlighten you with as well, Lindy Kyle.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded.
He was teasing her and Lindy found herself warming to him. When he chose to, Rush could freeze out an Eskimo with one piercing glare. She hated to think of the men on the Mitchell facing his wrath because, although she hadn’t seen it in full force, she’d witnessed enough to know his anger would be formidable. Discovering this gentler, fun-loving side of his nature had been an unexpected surprise.
Still smiling, Rush stood and threw a couple of dollars onto the table. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone pushes aside a few tables and starts up a band.”
Lindy laughed and reached for her sweater and purse. Rush’s hand lightly touched the small of her back as he guided her out of the restaurant. “So you really aren’t going to take me dancing?” she asked, once they were outside in the cool June air.
“Not on your life.”
Lindy released a slow, expressive sigh and glanced up into the dark, warmth of his gaze. A small taste of excitement filled her, and some of the heavy feeling that had weighted her heart for so many interminable weeks lifted.
“Would the lady consider a walk instead?” Rush said, his voice oddly tender, indulgent. He lifted his hand and rested it against her shoulder, his touch amazingly light.
Lindy had the impression that he’d rather not have his hand where it was, but that he couldn’t help himself, and she waded through a surge of elation. It was marvelous to feel like a woman again, and she was highly aware of her power, however fleeting.
They strolled toward the busy Seattle waterfront, weaving in and out of the crowds that lingered on the sidewalk. The air was clean and fresh, smelling of tangy salt and seaweed, and although the sun had set, the gentle breeze carried with it a pleasing warmth.
Rush bought them coffee from a seafood bar and they silently walked along the pier, staring at the lights from the ferryboat as it glided across the murky green waters of Puget Sound.
“Can I see the Mitchell from here?” Lindy asked.
“No. It’s in the shipyard in Bremerton, which is all the way across the Sound.”
“You really love the sea, don’t you?”
Rush’s fingers momentarily tightened their grip on her shoulder. “Yes, I do. Did Steve ever tell you I was born on a ferryboat?”
“No.”
“I think my destiny was cast then. My mother named me Rush because they were hurrying to get her to the hospital in time. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one chooses to look at it, I was born on the water.”
“And have been at home there ever since,” she added in a soft whisper.
He nodded and their eyes met in a brief exchange of rare understanding. Rush continued talking, telling her a little of his youth and his early days at Annapolis. He made a striking figure, leaning against the edge of the pier, Lindy noted. He paused and smiled down at her. His eyes narrowed briefly with appreciation and it was as if they had become two different people for this one special night.
Rush looked younger, Lindy mused, more open. For the first time since she’d arrived in Seattle, she felt that she was beginning to appreciate this complex man. Maybe because he was really talking to her, sharing a small part of himself with her. There was no pretense between them tonight. Somehow Lindy realized how rare it was for Rush to expose this amiable, sensitive part of himself, to let down his guard and throw caution to the wind. She felt as though she’d been granted a rare gift, one that she would look back on years from now and treasure.
They left the pier a few minutes later, discarded their Styrofoam cups and continued strolling down the busy sidewalk until they reached Waterfront Park. Lindy braced her foot against the bottom stair, which led to an observation deck and a museum on the second level.
“It’s a beautiful night,” Rush commented, staring into the sky.
Lindy had the feeling he was about to suggest they head back to the apartment. She didn’t want the evening to end. Everything was too perfect for them to leave so soon.
“Come on. I’ll race you up the stairs,” she called, letting the breeze carry her challenge. Not waiting to see if he was going to follow her, she grabbed for the railing and hurled herself up the concrete steps, taking two at a time.
The wind, which had recently picked up, whipped her hair from her face as she made a mad dash up the stairway, doing her best to swallow her laughter.
“Lindy.”
Rush’s exasperated voice was directly behind her, and not wishing to be outdistanced, she lurched forward.
He beat her easily and was waiting for her, blocking her way when she breathlessly reached the top.
“You little fool.”
Still panting and laughing, she tried to leap around him but almost lost her balance. A look of horror crowded his face as he reached out to grab her, but Lindy quickly darted in the opposite direction. Rush tried to block her there, as well, and she shrieked with the sheer joy of the moment and scooted sideways from him.
“Lindy, stop.”
She dodged to her left and when he followed her, she darted to her right, then triumphantly stumbled past him, running to the railing, her eyes wild with joy.
“I won,” she declared triumphantly, swinging around to face him.
Rush collapsed on the park bench, barely winded. “You cheated.”
“Oh, honestly. Can’t you admit it when a woman outsmarts you?”
“I’d admit it if it was true.”
“My foot, you would.” Lindy slumped down on the bench beside him, her breath coming in uneven, shallow gasps. Good Lord, she was out of shape. She let her head fall back so her hair rushed away from her face, granting her a feeling of complete freedom.
Lindy exhaled, dragging the oxygen through her lungs. “Oh, Paul, I can’t remember a night when I’ve had more fun.” The instant the name slipped through her lips, Lindy tensed. “I meant…Rush.”
The excitement that had galloped through her blood just seconds before felt like a deadweight pressing against her chest. For one crazy moment she was paralyzed. She had trouble breathing, trouble moving, trouble thinking. Scalding tears burned in her eyes, and the huge lump in her throat felt as if it were monumental.
Moisture rolled down the side of her face, burning her skin like acid, and she sucked in a trembling sob.
“Lindy, are you all right?”
Rush brushed away a tear and his finger felt incredibly warm against her icy cold cheek.
“Something must have gotten into my eye,” she lied, turning away so he wouldn’t be able to see the extent of her emotion.
“Here.”
He pressed a white handkerchief into her numb fingers, and she made a quick job of wiping her face dry. “I think we should be heading back. Don’t you?”
“Anything you say.”
He sounded so concerned when it was the last thing she wanted. Suddenly Rush was the last person in the world she yearned to be with. Escape seemed of paramount importance. Somehow she found her way to her feet, although the cement seemed to buckle beneath her shoes. With some effort she managed to keep her balance and rush away from the bench.
It would have been too much to hope that Rush would let her go. But oddly enough he seemed to appreciate her mood, remaining silent as he matched his quick steps to hers. Side by side they started up the hill toward First Avenue.
The climb was steep and Lindy was winded by the time they’d gone only a few blocks.
“I’ll get a taxi,” Rush said.
“No. Don’t, please.” She wanted to walk—needed to wear herself out physically so she could collapse in her bed exhausted. It was the only way she could guarantee she would sleep. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, climbing up one street and then the next one, seemed to help her contain her emotions.
By the time they reached the apartment building, Lindy’s lungs ached and her calf muscles violently protested the strenuous exercise. She waited impatiently while Rush unlocked the front door.
He held it open for her, and in that moment she detested him for the small display of manners. Paul had impeccable manners and look what he’d done to her. Look what he’d reduced her to.
Without even glancing in Rush’s direction she paused just inside the living room and said, her voice weak and faltering, “Thank you for dinner.”
He didn’t answer her for what seemed an eternity, and she had the impression he was willing her to turn around and face him. But she knew she couldn’t without dissolving into wretched emotion.
“Anytime, Lindy.” His words were low and as smooth as velvet.
“Good night.” The sooner she got away from Rush the better.
“’Night.” Again his voice was so gentle, so tender.
She made it all the way to the bathroom door before her gaze blurred so badly with tears that she had to stop and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Drawing in several steadying breaths between clenched teeth gave her some relief. She’d be damned before she’d cry over Paul Abrams.
Damned. Damned. Damned.
Without being aware of how it happened, Lindy found that she had stopped and braced a shoulder against the wall, using it to keep her upright, needing its support. She pinched her nose with her thumb and index fingers, willing back the release of torrential tears.
“Lindy, you need to cry.”
The words seemed to come from a far distance, echoing around her in a canyon of despair. She dropped her hand and looked up to find Rush standing beside her.
“No,” she said forcefully. “I won’t.”
“Don’t let him do this to you.”
She tried to push Rush away, but her effort was puny and weak. “You don’t know anything,” she cried. “How could you?”
“I know what it is to hurt.”
“Not like this.” No one could ever hurt this much. No one.
“Listen to me,” he said, and his hands gripped her shoulders. But even his fingers were gentle when she wanted them to be hard and punishing. “Cry. Let it out before the grief strangles you.”
“No.” Still she resisted, wildly shaking her head. “No. I hate him. I hate him.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
The dam broke then, and the tears that had been pent up inside her soul, shoved down and ignored for so long, bled from her eyes. A low, mewing sound slid from the back of her throat, nearly choking her. Sobs overtook her, huge, oxygen-robbing sobs that shook her shoulders and made her breast heave.
Rush didn’t try to hold her and she was grateful because she couldn’t have borne being restrained. Unable to remain upright, she braced her back against the wall and slumped to the floor. She gently rocked back and forth, weeping bitterly for the innocence she had lost, and wailing for the love she had given so freely to a man who didn’t deserve it. She cried until there was nothing left inside her.
Lindy started to retch when her tears were spent, and she knew she was about to lose her dinner. Rush’s hand under her elbow helped her to an upright position and into the bathroom. He stood behind her as she leaned over the toilet. She thought she felt his hand on her back, but she couldn’t be sure.
When she was finished he handed her a damp washcloth. She held it to her face, letting the coolness soak away some of the terrible red heat. Her eyes burned like fire, her throat felt gritty and coarse, and her hands shook.
“Here.” Rush handed her a glass of water.
She felt an abundance of shame at having allowed him to see her like this, and worse, that he should be the one to take care of her. She sank to the edge of the tub, afraid her shaky legs could no longer support her.
“You’re going to be all right now,” Rush told her confidently. “It’s over.”
She couldn’t look at him but nodded because it seemed the right thing to do. Rush had no way of knowing what Paul had done to her. No way of knowing that the man she’d loved and planned to share her life with had married another woman while Lindy proudly wore his engagement ring. Rush Callaghan didn’t know a damn whit about shattered dreams or the pain of a broken heart. He would never allow himself to be hurt this way.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you into your room.”
She stood with his help, and he tucked his arm around her waist as he led her into her darkened bedroom. Gently he brushed the wet strands of hair from her face and lowered her onto the mattress in a sitting position.
“I trust you don’t need anyone to undress you.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“It’s a damn good thing,” he said, and there was more than a trace of a smile in his words.
He started to walk away from her but paused just before he reached the door, turning back to her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Lindy Kyle, and someday there’ll be a man who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
Her mother had said almost those identical words to her. At the time, Lindy hadn’t been ready to accept them; she wasn’t sure she could now. All through college there’d only been Paul. Every thought of the future had been linked with him. Every dream. Every ambition. She felt as if fate had sent her tumbling into oblivion, uncaring what ill fortune befell her.
But it wasn’t in her to argue with Rush. Instead she brought her feet up onto the bed and pressed her head against the feather pillow. Her eyes ached unmercifully and she closed them.
“Did you hear me?” Rush demanded softly.
She wanted to shake her head that she hadn’t, but there wasn’t enough spirit left in her to challenge him. “I’m too selfish to pine away for Paul Abrams,” she said, her soft voice trembling. “I’m not willing to be miserable any more.”
Her words seemed to please him. “You’re one hell of a woman, Lindy, and don’t you forget it.”
“Right.” She couldn’t contain the sarcasm. Although she kept her eyes closed, Lindy knew it was a long time before Rush left the doorway. His presence all but filled the room. Only when he’d slipped away did she feel comfortable enough to relax and sleep.
Lindy woke around two, her throat dry and scratchy. Her temples throbbed, and her eyes were red and swollen. She didn’t turn on any lights as she made her way into the kitchen, preferring the shield of darkness.
The drapes were open and the city lights flickered in the distance. Taking the cold glass of water and the aspirin with her, Lindy stood at the window and expelled her breath in a long sigh. She’d made such an idiot of herself in front of Rush. The thought of facing him in the morning was almost more than she could bear.
Fresh tears dampened her face at the memory of the humiliating way she’d sobbed and moaned and rocked with grief. She exhaled a quivering breath and brushed her cheeks free of moisture.
“It’s over, Lindy, there’s no need to cry anymore.”
She whirled around to discover Rush sitting in the darkened room, watching her.
“I’ll cry if I damn well please,” she hissed.
“There’s no need to now.”
Lord, she hated it when men thought they were so wonderfully logical. Everything seemed to be so cut-and-dried for them.
“Who made you king of the universe?”
He chuckled at that.
“I don’t find that the least bit amusing. I honestly want to know what makes you think you know so damn much about human nature that you can decree when enough tears have been shed?”
“I know.”
Lindy slapped her hand against her side in an action meant to reveal her disgust. “So the big lieutenant commander has spoken.” She whirled around and placed the water glass down with such force that the liquid sloshed over the sides.
“How could you possibly know about loving someone and then losing them? You can’t imagine what it’s like to have your heart ripped from your chest and be left with a gaping wound that refuses to heal.” She was yelling at him now, but not because she was angry. The memory of the way she’d broken down in front of him was more than embarrassing. Heated words were her only defense.
Rush was out of the chair so fast that it shocked her. He loomed at her side like a dragon, his jaw as tight and contorted as she’d ever seen it.
“I know more than I ever cared to.” Each word dripped with ice, his message clear.
They stood, their gazes locked in the moonlight, glaring at each other, refusing to look away. She saw his pain then, as raw and jagged as her own. His guard was down. He’d lowered it for her tonight when she’d spilled out her heart, leaving himself exposed and trapped in pain-filled memories.
“Rush,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched his shoulder, wanting to offer him comfort the way he had helped her. “I didn’t know.”
He reached for her then, crushing her in his arms, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He didn’t fill in the details. He didn’t need to.

Chapter 4
Lindy slept on the davenport across from Rush, but the sweet luxury of oblivion escaped him. Even now, hours later, he couldn’t forget the unselfconscious way she’d wrapped her arms around him and held him, her tears soaking through his shirt. Rush wasn’t sure who she was crying for anymore: him or her. It didn’t matter.
Her body felt unbelievably good against his own, and her warmth had chased away the arctic chill that had seemed to cut all the way through to the marrow of his bones. He didn’t like to think about Cheryl and rarely did these days. But somehow being a witness to Lindy’s anguish had brought the memory of his own bobbing uncontrollably to the surface of his mind. Like a cork, the remembrance of his love and foolishness had refused to sink, and he’d been left to deal with the pain that had suddenly seemed as fresh and real as it had been eight years ago.
The memory of Cheryl had weighed on him like a steel cloak, tormenting his heart and mind. He’d loved her with a love that was pure and innocent. A love so rare that he never hoped to feel such deep, heart-wrenching emotion again. Leaving her to go to sea had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Every day of the tour he’d written to her, spilling out his heart. On payday he’d sent her every penny he could, living on a bare minimum himself because it was important to him that she have the things she needed.
When he’d reached home port, he couldn’t get off the aircraft carrier fast enough. After six months at sea, he was dying to hold her again, dying to love her. But she hadn’t been at the dock. Bitterly disappointed, the only thing Rush could reason was that she was ill. Well, he’d been partially right. Only her sickness was of the nine-month variety. From what he’d learned later, sweet innocent Cheryl had shacked up with another sailor a week after he’d left San Diego. She’d apparently hoped to pass the baby off as Rush’s. Rush, however, hadn’t needed a degree in math to calculate the dates.
It might have made things easier for him if they’d fought. He might have been able to release some of the bitter anguish he’d experienced over her infidelity. But instead he’d simply told her goodbye and walked away, the diamond engagement ring he’d intended to give her seeming to sear a hole through his palm.
In the weeks and months that followed, his mind played crazy tricks on him. He tried to convince himself the baby was his, although God knows it was impossible. He heard from a friend that Cheryl married some poor schmuck fresh out of officer training within a month after Rush had left her.
A couple of years later he’d run into her in a bar. Her big blue eyes had clouded with tears as she’d told him they’d let something good slip away. With a wedding band on her finger, she’d placed her hand high on his thigh and suggested they get together for old times’ sake. Rush had thought he was going to vomit, she repulsed him so completely.
He never saw her again, never wanted to. Cheryl had taught him valuable lessons, ones destined to last a lifetime. She’d destroyed a part of him that could never be resurrected.
The first faint light of dawn seeped into the sky, extinguishing the stars one by one, and still Rush couldn’t sleep. But the even meter of Lindy’s breathing as she lay sleeping on the sofa was a soothing balm and gradually he felt the rigid tension leave his limbs.
They’d sat for hours, his arm around her, her head nestled over his heart. Neither had spoken—or wanted to. It was a time to remember. A time to forget. When she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, he’d gently slipped free of her hold and lowered her head onto the sofa.
She was going to be all right now.
So was he.
Lindy squinted as the sun flooded the living room and seemed to rest, full force, on her face, disturbing her deep sleep. Her neck ached, and it was then that she realized that her only pillow had been the small flat decorative one from the couch. She felt disoriented until the memory of what had happened between her and Rush gushed through her mind like melting snow rushing down a mountainside during a spring thaw. She groaned and covered her face with her hands, embarrassed anew.
Slowly, almost against her will, she sat up and opened her eyes. She felt empty inside, depleted. Shaky.
A quick survey of the room told her Rush wasn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, and she sighed with relief.
Coming to her feet, she brushed the mussed dark hair away from her face and stumbled into the kitchen. The coffee was made and a note propped against the base of the machine. Lindy reached for the slip of paper and blinked several times in an effort to clear her vision. Rush had duty and wouldn’t be home until late afternoon.
Thank God.
She wasn’t up to confronting him. Not now, anyway. What could she possibly say to him after she’d stripped herself emotionally naked and exposed her soul? Lord, she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out later. Right now she wanted a hot bath and some breakfast, in that order.
By five that afternoon, she’d washed windows, baked a fresh apple pie and scrubbed the shower. Occupying herself with a dozen domestic tasks until she was forced into the inevitable confrontation with Rush.
She was frying pork chops for dinner when she heard the front door open, and she tensed, instantly filled with dread.
An awkward silence ensued when he stepped into the kitchen. Since she wasn’t sure how to begin, she glanced around nervously and offered him a falsely cheerful smile.
Rush was frowning and she watched as his gaze bounced around the apartment, growing darker and more irritated with each passing moment.
Despite her best efforts, Lindy felt completely unstrung, and still Rush just stood there, looking straight through her with those impassive blue eyes of his.
“I baked a pie.” It was an absurd thing to say, but Lindy was quickly losing a grip on her determination to be cheerful and pleasant.
“That’s not what I smell.”
Lindy saw him wrinkle up his nose a couple of times, sniffing. “What are you?” she asked, forcing a light laugh. “A bloodhound?”
Obstinately Rush refused to respond to her attempt at good humor. If anything, his face grew more marred by dark shadows and anger kindled in his eyes. “It smells like pine needles in here.”
“Oh.” Why, oh why, couldn’t he play her game? He had to know how difficult all this was for her. “I scrubbed down the cupboards. I think I was supposed to dilute the cleaner more than I did.”
Her back was braced against the counter, her fingers gripping the edge. She could feel a pulse come alive in her temple. She’d had all day to make up her mind what she was going to say to Rush, how she was going to act, but her conclusions had been vague and fearful. That was when she’d decided she wouldn’t utter a word about what had happened, praying he wouldn’t, either. She should have realized Rush wouldn’t let her forget it.
“You’ve been busy.”
She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I decided to spruce up the place a bit.”
Her efforts didn’t appear to please him. Damn, but she wished he’d say or do something to help her. He had to know what she was going through.
“You said something about pork chops being your favorite dinner,” she offered next, almost desperate. All the while, her eyes pleaded with him. She’d just found her footing with this man, and now she was floundering again, her feet slipping out from under her every which way she turned.
“That was thoughtful.” Still he frowned, his brow crowding his eyes, darkening them all the more.

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Debbie Macomber

Тип: электронная книга

Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература

Язык: на английском языке

Издательство: HarperCollins

Дата публикации: 16.04.2024

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О книге: Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy′ – CandisImpulsive, wounded, vulnerable, Lindy Kyle was unprepared for a roommate like Rush Callaghan.Strong, sensitive and sexy, the temporarily dry-docked naval offi cer was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man… in a husband. But Rush placed duty to his country above all else.Though he and Lindy were swept away on a tide of passion, he was called back to sea. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder—but will their marriage survive their partings?

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