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Navy Woman
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisBusy atorney Catherine Fredrickson loved her job at a submarine base in Washington, but her new boss, Royce Nyland, had her spirits sinking fast. The icy widower was distant, demanding…and incredibly attractive. And though he kept her at arm’s length, he aroused a stormy passion in Catherine that was impossible to deny. Already struggling to keep afloat while caring for his energetic daughter, Royce didn’t need any more distractions—especially not in the form of an appealing woman!Though the laws of the sea deemed naval fraternizing strictly taboo, how long could Royce resist romance when just the sight of Catherine capsized his vulnerable heart?










Navy Woman


New York Times Bestselling Author




Debbie Macomber







www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


Busy attorney Catherine Fredrickson loved her job at a submarine base in Washington, but her new boss, Royce Nyland, had her spirits sinking fast. The icy widower was distant, demanding…and incredibly attractive. And though he kept her at arm’s length, he aroused a stormy passion in Catherine that was impossible to deny.

Already struggling to keep afloat while caring for his energetic daughter, Royce didn’t need any more distractions—especially not in the form of an appealing woman! Though the laws of the sea deemed naval fraternizing strictly taboo, how long could Royce resist romance when just the sight of Catherine capsized his vulnerable heart?


Dedicated to

Betty Zimmerman

A remarkable woman and a very special aunt

Special thanks to

Cheryl K. Rife, LCDR, JAGC, USN




Contents


Chapter One (#u2e6b2ef2-7e9f-5196-baf4-fd8872e96f6c)

Chapter Two (#u155301df-a5cd-5ddb-918d-2dfe07b01d96)

Chapter Three (#ua463ddc4-9d15-5bef-9f67-fd161f671e8b)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Rain. That’s all it had done from the moment Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson, Judge Advocate General Corps—JAGC—arrived at the Naval Submarine Base Bangor in Silverdale, Washington. October in Hawaii meant balmy ocean breezes, mai tais by the pool and eighty-degree sunshine.

In other words she’d left paradise and had been transferred to purgatory.

If the weather wasn’t enough to discourage her, the executive officer, Commander Royce Nyland was. Catherine had never met anyone who irritated her more. The legal staff stationed in Hawaii had shared a camaraderie that made working together a pleasant experience.

Bangor was a different story, but the contrast was most telling in the differences between Catherine’s two superiors. She simply didn’t like the man, and from all outward appearances the feeling was mutual.

From the first, Catherine knew something wasn’t right. In no other station had she been required to stand duty so often. For four weeks straight she’d been assigned the twenty-four-hour watch on a Friday night. It was as if Commander Nyland had made it his personal goal to disrupt her entire life.

After a month, Catherine was getting downright testy about it.

“Fredrickson, do you have the files on the Miller case?”

“Yes, sir.” She stood, reached for the requested file and handed it to the man who’d been dominating her thoughts for the majority of the day.

Commander Nyland opened the file and started reading as he walked away from her. Catherine’s gaze followed him as she tried to analyze what it was about her he disliked so much. Perhaps he had something against brunettes. Although that sounded crazy, Catherine couldn’t help wondering. Maybe it was because she was petite and small-boned. More than likely, she reminded him of someone he once knew and disliked intensely. Well that was just too damn bad. As far as Catherine could see, she’d done nothing to deserve his disdain, and frankly, she wasn’t about to put up with any more of it.

Scuttlebutt had it that he was single. Catherine had no trouble believing it. If his behavior toward her was any indication of how he treated women, then this guy needed a major attitude adjustment.

His apparent dislike of her solved one problem. Catherine needn’t worry about anything romantic developing between them. If she were looking for an effective way to end her Navy career, all she had to do was start fraternizing with a superior officer within the same command. It was the quickest way Catherine knew to be court-martialed. The Navy refused to tolerate such behavior.

Besides his rotten attitude, Commander Nyland wasn’t her type. Catherine liked her men less rough around the edges and a whole lot more agreeable.

In eleven years of Navy life, Catherine had worked with her share of officers, but no one had ever struck such a strong, discordant note with her.

Nothing she did pleased him. Nothing. The closest she’d ever gotten to praise from her XO had been a hard nod, as if that were sufficient compliment. A nod!

The crazy part of it was, Catherine had actually gotten excited over it. All day she’d gone around wearing a silly grin.

She needed to get back to Hawaii, and fast.

“Come into my office, Lieutenant Commander.”

Catherine glanced up, startled to discover Commander Nyland standing directly in front of her desk.

“Yes, sir,” she answered briskly. She stood and reached for a notepad before following him into his office.

Commander Nyland took his seat and motioned for Catherine to sit in the cushioned chair located on the opposite side of his desk.

Catherine glanced around and swallowed nervously. She didn’t like the looks of this. The great and almighty commander was frowning. Not that it was the least bit unusual. To the best of her memory, she couldn’t remember him ever smiling.

She quickly reviewed the cases she’d been working on for the past few days, and could think of nothing that would warrant a tongue-lashing. Not that he needed an excuse, of course.

The silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths as she waited for him to acknowledge her. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him he was the one who’d called her into his office, but she’d be a fool to allow a hint of sarcasm into her voice.

“I’ve been following your progress for the past several weeks.” His indifferent blue gaze raked her features. Catherine had never been more aware of her appearance. Her thick, dark hair was coiled in a businesslike knot at her nape, and her uniform jacket and skirt were crisp and freshly pressed. She had the impression if he found one crease, she’d be ordered to stand in front of a firing squad. No man had ever made her feel more self-conscious. He continued to stare at her as if seeing her for the first time. There was no hint of appreciation for her good looks. Catherine wasn’t conceited, but she was reasonably attractive, and the fact the man looked at her as if she were little more than a mannequin was vaguely insulting. Okay, she was being unreasonable, Catherine mused. If she had recognized a flicker of interest in those cobalt-blue eyes of his, that would have been worse.

“Yes, sir.”

“As I was saying,” he continued, “I’ve had my eye on your work.”

She noted that he made a simple statement of fact without elaborating. If he’d been watching her, then she’d admit, not openly of course, that she’d been studying him, too. He may be disagreeable, and to her way of thinking, ill-tempered, but he was respected and generally well liked. Personally, Catherine found him to be a real pain, but her thinking was tainted by a four-week stint at standing duty on Friday nights.

Politics existed in every office, but there seemed to be more in Bangor than the other duty stations Catherine had been assigned. As the executive officer directly below Captain Stewart, Commander Royce Nyland was empowered to run her legal office. He did so with a detached, emotionless ability that Catherine had rarely seen. In many ways he was the best officer she’d ever worked with and, in others, the worst.

It was apparent the man was a born leader. His lean, muscular good looks commanded attention. His office demanded it.

Actually, now that she had an uninterrupted minute to analyze the commander, she was willing to admit he was fairly attractive. Not handsome in the classic sense. Appealing, she decided. Not ordinary.

His features weren’t anything that would cause a woman to swoon. His hair was nearly black. Its darkness coupled with his deep blue eyes was a contrast not easily ignored. He was broad shouldered, and although she knew him to be of medium height, an inch or so under six feet, he gave the impression of power and strength in everything he did.

Her scrutiny didn’t seem to bother him. He leaned back in his chair, expelled his breath and announced, “I’m pleased to tell you I’ve chosen you as a substitute coordinator of the physical fitness program for the base.”

“Substitute coordinator,” Catherine repeated slowly. Her heart beat dull and heavy before it dropped like a lead weight to her stomach. It took a second to right itself before she could respond. If there was one after-hours duty she would have done anything to avoid it was that of coordinator of the physical fitness program. It was by far one of the least envied jobs on base.

The Navy was serious about keeping men and women in top physical condition. Those who were overweight were placed on a strict dietary schedule and exercise regime. As coordinator, Catherine would be subjected to endless meetings to chart the individuals’ progress. She’d also be expected to formulate an exercise program designed specifically to meet each person’s needs. In addition, she would be given the painful task of having someone discharged from the Navy if they failed to meet the requirements in regard to weight and fitness.

“I believe you’re qualified to handle this job effectively.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, biting her tongue to keep from saying more. Tackling this duty, even on a substitute basis, meant she wouldn’t have time to breathe. It was a time-consuming, distasteful assignment. If the executive officer had been actively seeking to destroy any chance she had of developing a social life, he’d done so in one fell swoop.

“Lieutenant Osborne will meet with you and give you the necessary paperwork at 1500 hours. If you have any questions, you should gear them to him.” Already he was looking away from her, dismissing her.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, struggling with everything in her not to let her irritation show. She left his office and closed the door with a decided click, hoping he’d believe the wind had caught it. Hell, he was fortunate she didn’t tear the damn thing right off its hinges.

With as dignified a walk as possible, she returned to her office. She set the pad down a little too hard, attracting the attention of Elaine Perkins, her secretary, who occupied the scarred desk outside Catherine’s office.

“Problems?” she asked. As a Navy wife, Elaine was well acquainted with the difficulties of military life.

“Problems?” Catherine echoed sarcastically. “What could possibly be wrong? Listen, do I have something repugnantly wrong with me?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Elaine was quick to tell her.

“I don’t have bad breath?”

“No.”

“Does my slip hang out from under my skirt?” She twisted around and tried to determine that much for herself.

“Not that I can see,” Elaine assured her. “What makes you ask?”

“No reason.” With that, Catherine stalked out of the office and down the hall to the drinking fountain. Her hand trembled slightly as she leaned forward and scooped up a generous mouthful, letting the cold water soothe her injured pride.

Catherine wished she could talk to Sally. The two were the only women officers in a command of several hundred men, but that wasn’t possible now. Once she’d composed herself sufficiently to return, Catherine did so, forcing a smile.

“I’m pleased to inform you you’ve been chosen as the substitute coordinator of the physical fitness program,” Catherine mumbled under her breath as she traipsed toward the running track several hours later. Dusk was settling over the compound, but there was enough time to get in a three-mile run before dark.

Pleased was right. Commander Nyland had looked downright gleeful to assign her the task. The more Catherine thought about it, the more furious she got.

Venting some of this discontent seemed like a good idea. Clouds threatened a downpour, but Catherine didn’t care. She’d just received the worst collateral duty assignment of her career, and she needed to vent the frustration and confusion before she headed home to the apartment she rented in Silver-dale. Taking giant strides, she crested the hill that led to the track, then stopped abruptly. Several runners circled the course, but one runner in particular stood out from the rest.

Commander Nyland.

For a long moment Catherine couldn’t keep her eyes off him. There was a natural, fluid grace to his movements. His stride was long and even, and he ran as if the wind were beneath his feet. What struck her most was his quiet strength. She didn’t want to acknowledge it. Nor did she wish to find a single positive attribute about this man.

If there was any justice in the world, lightning would strike him dead. Glancing to the sky, she was depressed to note a touch of blue in the far horizon. Typical. Just when she was looking for rain, the sun had decided to play a game of hide-and-seek with her. If lightning wasn’t going to do the good commander in, then all she could hope for was a bad case of athlete’s foot.

Once again she grumbled under her breath, seriously considering leaving the base without running. If she did go down to the track, it was likely she’d say or do something that would get her into trouble with the commander.

Evidently she’d done something horrible to warrant his dislike. After he’d ruined four weekends straight for her, he’d topped himself by giving her the least desirable assignment on base. What next? KP?

Catherine started to turn away, then abruptly changed her mind. She wasn’t going to allow this man to dictate her entire life! She had as much right to run on this track as anyone. If he didn’t like it, he could be the one to leave.

With that thought in mind, she stepped alongside the court and went through a series of warm-up exercises. Actually, the more she thought about it, she was downright eager to get onto the track. She was petite, but she was a fine runner. She’d been on the varsity cross-country teams in both high school and college and did a consistent seven-minute mile. If there was an area in which she excelled, it was running.

She did the first lap at a relaxed pace, easily lapping a couple of the overweight men. Commander Nyland didn’t acknowledge her one way or the other, which was perfectly fine with Catherine. She’d hadn’t come out here to exchange pleasantries with him.

The second and third laps, Catherine stepped up her pace. It normally took her a mile or so to fully warm up. As she increased her stride, she noticed that she was never quite able to catch her XO.

The one time she did manage to pass him, he scooted past her seconds later, leaving her to eat his dust. Frustrated, Catherine decided she might not be able to outrun him, but by heaven she’d outlast him. He was fast, but she’d easily outdistance him.

She continued her killing pace until she was sure she’d gone six miles or farther. Her lungs ached, and her calf muscles strenuously protested the abuse. Yet she continued, more determined than ever not to surrender her pride to this disagreeable commander. If she was hurting, then so was he.

She would rather keel over from exhaustion than quit now! It was more than a matter of pride.

Soon fat raindrops fell from the darkening sky and splashed against the dry, gritty surface. Still Catherine and the commander ran. What few runners remained quickly dropped out until it was the two of them alone against the forces of nature. Against each other, in a silent battle of wills.

They didn’t speak. Not once. Catherine ran until she thought she was going to be sick, yet she dared not stop. Night fell like a curtain of black satin around the grounds. Catherine barely managed to see her own feet, let alone the distant silhouette of the commander. Soon he disappeared from her range of view entirely. It wasn’t until she heard his footsteps coming up behind her that she realized he’d been able to come all the way around to lap her. He slowed his pace until his steps matched her own without breaking his stride.

“How much longer are we going to keep this up, Fredrickson?” he demanded.

Damn, he didn’t even sound out of breath, Catherine noted.

“I don’t know,” she returned, sounding very much as though she should have yielded several miles back.

“You’re tiring.”

How kind of him to tell her so. “You are, too,” she insisted.

“I have to admit you’re a hell of a runner.”

“A compliment, Commander?”

She sensed his smile. It made absolutely no sense the way her heart reacted knowing that. It was as if she’d been blessed by an unexpected second wind. By some odd twist of fate, she’d actually managed to amuse ol’ stone face.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No chance of that,” she quipped, wondering if she’d heard a hint of amusement in his tone. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice it’s raining.” Although she attempted to make light of it, she was drenched to the bone.

“Is that what all this wet stuff is?”

“I’ll tell you what,” she said between breaths, “I’ll stop running if you do. We’ll call it a draw.”

“Agreed.” Royce slowed his pace to a trot, and Catherine reluctantly did the same, not sure even now that she could trust him. After several steps, she stopped and leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees while she struggled to capture her breath.

The rain continued to pound down with a vengeance. While they were jogging, it was a simple enough matter to ignore the downpour. Now it wasn’t so easy. Her hair, which had once been neatly secured at her nape, was plastered to her cheeks like wet strings. A small river of rainwater was navigating over her neck and down to the small of her back.

“Go home, Fredrickson,” Royce said after a moment.

Catherine bristled. “Is that an order?”

He paused. “No.”

He started to walk away from her, then unexpectedly turned back. “Before you leave, satisfy a curiosity. You requested a transfer from San Diego several years back. Why?”

Catherine knew it was all part of her personnel file, but his question caught her off guard. Her response was quick, light-hearted, almost flippant. “Who wouldn’t want to live in Hawaii?”

“That wasn’t the reason you wanted out of San Diego.” His voice was deceptively unconcerned, as if he knew far more than he was letting on. “You wanted that transfer and you didn’t care if you got Hawaii or Iran.”

“There were personal reasons,” she admitted reluctantly. Catherine couldn’t understand why he’d chosen to ask her these questions now. The man continued to baffle her.

“Tell me the truth.”

Catherine tensed, disliking his casual tone. Nor was she pleased with the way he implied she was lying. By mentally counting to ten, she willed herself to remain calm.

“That is the truth. I’ve always wanted to live in Hawaii.”

“My guess is that a man was involved.”

Catherine’s stomach knotted. She didn’t often think about Aaron. For the past three years she’d done a superb job of pretending they’d never met. Leave it to Royce Nyland to harass her battered heart with memories of her former fiancé. All right, that was a bit strong. He wasn’t exactly tormenting her, and her heart wasn’t all that scarred.

“What makes you think my request had anything to do with a man?” she asked, making light of his comment. She increased her strides, wanting to get this interrogation over with as soon as possible.

“Because it generally is.”

That wasn’t the least bit true, but Catherine wasn’t going to stand in the rain and argue with him.

“A change of scenery appealed to me at the time.” She needed to get away from San Diego for fear she’d run into Aaron. She wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing him again. At least that was what she told herself. Over time, she wasn’t nearly convinced that was true. She’d fallen head over heels in love with him much too quickly. Then she’d flown out as a defense attorney for trials aboard the Nimitz and returned several weeks later to learn Aaron hadn’t exactly been holding his breath waiting for her.

The first minute she was back, Catherine had rushed to her fiancé’s apartment to find him lying on the sofa with the young blond divorcée who lived next door. Aaron had scrambled off the davenport in a rush to explain while the red-faced divorcée hastily rebuttoned her blouse. It had all been innocent fun, Aaron claimed. Hell, how was he supposed to amuse himself while she was away for weeks on end? He advised Catherine to be a sport since he and the blonde had only indulged in a little entertainment.

In thinking back over the episode, Catherine was surprised by how completely emotionless she’d remained. The solitary diamond on her finger suddenly weighted down her hand. That much she remembered with ease. She’d stared down on it and then wordlessly slipped it from her finger and returned it to Aaron. For several moments he was paralyzed with shock. Then he’d followed her to the parking lot and pleaded with her to be more understanding. If it offended her so much, he’d make sure it didn’t happen again. There was no need to overreact this way. None whatsoever.

In retrospect Catherine had come to realize that her pride had taken far more of a beating than her heart. She was almost relieved to have Aaron out of her life, only she hadn’t realized that until much later.

“Catherine?”

Royce’s deep, masculine voice pulled her back into the present. To the best of her knowledge it was the first time he’d ever used her name. Until then it had been Lieutenant Commander or Fredrickson, but never Catherine. This, too, had a curious effect upon her heart.

“There was a man involved,” she announced stiffly, “but that was several years ago now. You needn’t worry my former engagement will affect my work for you. Now or in the future.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Good night, Commander.” They crested the hill where Catherine’s bright red GEO Storm was waiting for her.

“Good night.”

Trotting, Catherine was halfway down the hill when Royce stopped her.

“Catherine.”

“Yes?” She turned around to face him, brushing the wet curls from her cheeks.

“Are you living with someone?”

The question took her by complete surprise. “That’s none of your business.”

Royce said nothing. He stood several feet away from her, his harsh features illuminated by the streetlight. His face was tight, as if he were holding himself in check. “Trust me, I have no interest in your love life. You can live with whomever you please or be engaged to five men at once for all I care. What does concern me is the legal department. The work is demanding and the schedule grueling. I like to know where I stand with my staff and try to avoid causing unnecessary complications in their lives.”

Catherine didn’t respond right away. “Since you find it so important, then I might as well confess I am shacked up with someone.” From the distance Catherine couldn’t tell if she got a reaction or not. Most likely he was telling the truth and he didn’t care one way or the other. “Sambo.”

“Sambo?” he repeated frowning.

“You heard me correctly, Commander. I live with a cat named Sambo.” With that, she gave a cheerful laugh and was gone.

Royce found himself smiling in the dark, the rain pelting down around him in a great torrent. His amusement, however, vanished quickly. He didn’t like Catherine Fredrickson.

“No,” he muttered aloud, retracting the thought. That wasn’t true. He did like her. There were any number of admirable traits about the Lieutenant Commander he couldn’t help but respect.

She was dedicated and hardworking, and she’d fit in easily with the rest of his staff. She wasn’t a complainer, either. Before he’d left the office that evening, he’d checked over the duty roster and was surprised to note that he’d assigned Catherine duty every Friday for four weeks running. He hadn’t realized his mistake. Anyone else would have pointed it out to him, and rightly so. Her name had drifted easily into his mind when he learned Lieutenant Osborne was going on sea trials and a substitute coordinator was needed to take over the physical fitness program.

He knew Catherine wasn’t overly pleased by the assignment. Her eyes had flashed briefly with rebellion, but that was the only outward sign she’d given that she wasn’t thrilled with the added responsibility.

That woman had eyes that would mark a man’s soul. Normally Royce didn’t pay much attention to that sort of thing, but her eyes had garnered his attention from the first moment they’d met. They shimmered, and seemed to trap pieces of light. But more than that, they seemed warm and caring.

He liked her voice, too. It was rich and sweetly feminine. Female. Hell, Royce mused, he was beginning to sound like a romantic poet.

Now that thought was enough to produce a hearty laugh. There wasn’t a romantic bone left in his body. His wife had squeezed every ounce of love and joy out of him long before she went to the grave.

Royce didn’t want to think about Sandy. Abruptly he turned and walked toward his car, his strides hurried, as if he could outdistance the memory of his dead wife.

He climbed inside his Porsche and started the engine. His house was on the base, and he’d be home within five minutes.

Before long, however, it was Catherine who dominated his thoughts again. He wasn’t overly thrilled with the subject matter, but he was too damn tired to fight himself over it. When he arrived home, his ten-year-old daughter, Kelly, would keep him occupied. For once he was going to indulge himself and let his thoughts wander where they would. Besides, he was curious to analyze his complex reaction to Catherine Fredrickson.

Not that it was important. Not that he needed to know anything more about her than he already did. He was simply inquisitive. He supposed when it came right down to it, he didn’t feel one way or the other about her.

No, that wasn’t true, either. She intrigued him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t understand it. He wished he could put his finger on exactly what it was about her that fascinated him so much. Until that afternoon, he hadn’t even been aware of it.

She wasn’t that much different than the other Navy women he’d worked with over the years. Not true, he contradicted himself. She had a scrubbed-clean look about her, a gentleness, a gracefulness of heart and manner that piqued him.

Another thing he’d learned about her this evening. By heaven that woman was bullheaded. He’d never seen anyone run with cursed stubbornness the way she had. It wasn’t until it had started to rain that Royce recognized the unspoken challenge she’d issued. Absorbed in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed she was on the track until she’d zoomed past him and then smugly tossed a look over her shoulder as if to announce she’d won. Hell, he hadn’t even realized they were in a race.

As if that wasn’t enough, she wouldn’t stop. They both had reached their physical limits, and still that little spitfire continued and would have, Royce was convinced, until she dropped.

He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. His hands remained on the steering wheel as a slow smile spread across his features. Woman, he mused, thy name is pride.

The drape parted in the living room, Kelly’s head peeked out. Just the way the drape was tossed back into place told him the ten-year-old was angry. Damn, Royce wondered, what the hell had he done this time?

Kelly usually ran outside to greet him. Not tonight. Whatever it was must have been a doozy. His daughter could be more stubborn than a Tennessee mule. This must be his day for clashing with obstinate women.




Chapter Two


Fresh from the shower, Catherine dressed in a warm robe, and wrapped her hair in a thick towel. She sat in the living room, her feet propped against the coffee table with Sambo nestled contentedly in her lap.

Sipping from a cup of herbal tea, Catherine mulled over the events of the day. A reluctant smile slowly eased its way across her face. Her dislike for Royce Nyland didn’t go quite as deep as it had before their small confrontation on the racetrack. The man wasn’t ever going to win any personality awards, that was for sure, but she felt a grudging respect for him.

Sambo purred and stretched his furry legs, his claws digging deep into the thick robe. Catherine stroked her pet, letting the long black tail slip through her fingers as she continued to mull over the time she and Royce had shared the track. The realization that she actually enjoyed their silent battle of wills warmed her from the inside out. For some unknown reason, she’d managed to amuse him. Because of the dark, Catherine hadn’t been able to witness his stern features relax into a smile. She would have liked to have seen that, taken a picture to remind her that the man could smile.

Her stomach growled, and Catherine briefly wondered what was stashed in her freezer. Hopefully something would magically appear that she could toss in the microwave. She definitely wasn’t in the mood to cook.

On her way into the kitchen, she paused in front of the photograph that rested on the fireplace mantel. The man staring back at her had deep brown eyes that were alive with warmth, wit and character.

Catherine’s eyes.

He was handsome, so handsome that she often stared at the picture, regretting the fact she had never been given the chance to know him. She’d been only three when her father had been shipped to Vietnam, five when he’d been listed as Missing in Action. Often she’d reached back as far as her memory would take her to snatch hold of something that would help her remember him, but each time she was left to deal with frustration and disappointment.

The man in the photo was young, far too young to have his life snuffed out. No one would ever know how he’d died or even when. All Catherine’s family had been told was that his Navy jet had gone down over a Vietcong infested jungle. They never were to know if he survived the crash or had been taken prisoner. Those, like so many other details of his life and death, had been left to her imagination.

Catherine’s mother, a corporate attorney, had never remarried. Marilyn Fredrickson wasn’t bitter, nor was she angry. She was far too practical to allow such negative emotions to taint her life.

Like a true Navy wife, she’d silently endured the long years of the cruel unknowns, refusing to be defeated by the helplessness of frustration. When her husband’s remains had been returned to the States, she’d stood proud and strong as he was laid to rest with full military honors.

The only time Catherine could ever remember her mother weeping had been the day her father’s casket had arrived at the airport. With a gentleness and a sweetness that impressed Catherine still, her mother had walked over to the flag-draped casket, rested her gloved hand at the head and brokenly whispered, “Welcome home, my love.” Then she’d slumped to her knees and sobbed until she’d released a ten-year reservoir of submerged emotions.

Catherine had cried with her mother that day. But in death, as he had been in life, Andrew Warren Fredrickson remained a stranger.

In choosing to become a Navy attorney, Catherine had followed both her parents’ footsteps. Being a part of the military had brought her as close as she was likely to get to understanding the man who had given her life.

Lulled by her thoughts, Catherine ran the tip of her finger along the top of the gold frame. “I wonder if you ever had to work with someone like Royce Nyland,” she said softly.

She did that sometimes. Talked to the photograph as though she honestly expected her father to answer. She didn’t, of course, but carrying on a one-sided conversation with the man in the picture eased the ache in her heart at never having known him.

Sambo meowed loudly, announcing it was well past dinnertime, and Catherine had best do something quickly. The black feline waited impatiently in front of his bowl while Catherine brought out the pouch of soft cat food.

“Enjoy,” she muttered, wincing as she bent over to fill the food dish. Holding her hand at the small of her back, Catherine cautiously straightened. Her pride had cost her more than she’d first realized.

“But, Dad, I’ve just got to have that jacket,” Kelly announced as she carried her dinner plate over to the sink. She rinsed it off and set it in the dishwasher, a chore that went above and beyond her normal duties. As far as Royce was concerned, she was going to have to do a whole lot more than stack a few dishes to change his mind.

“You have a very nice jacket now,” he reminded her, standing to pour himself a cup of coffee. He supposed he should be grateful she’d chosen to overlook the fact he was forty minutes later than he’d told her he would be. After her initial protest she’d been suspiciously forgiving. Now he knew why.

“But my jacket’s from last year and it’s really old and the sleeve has a little tear in it and no one is wearing fluorescent green anymore. I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire school if I wear that old thing.”

“That ‘old thing’ as you put it, will do nicely. The subject is closed, Kelly Lynn.” Royce was determined not to give in this time. He was walking a fine line with his daughter as it was, and loomed dangerously close to overindulging her. It was easy to do. She was a sweet child, unselfish and gentle. Actually it was something of a wonder that Kelly should turn out to be such a considerate child. The ten-year-old had been raised by a succession of baby-sitters. From the time she was only a few weeks old, Kelly had been lackadaisically palmed off on others.

Sandy had only agreed to have one child, and she’d done so reluctantly six years into their marriage. Her career as a fashion buyer had dominated her life, so much so that Royce doubted that his wife had possessed a single mothering instinct. When she’d been killed in a freak auto accident, Royce had grieved for her loss, but their relationship had been dead for several years.

If Kelly had been shortchanged in the mother department, Royce wasn’t convinced she’d done much better with him as a father. Heaven knew Royce’s reputation was that of a hard-nosed bastard. But he was fair and everyone knew it. He did the best he could, but often wondered if that was good enough. He loved Kelly and he wanted to do right by her.

“All the other girls in school have new jackets,” she mumbled under her breath.

Royce ignored the comment and between sips of coffee placed the leftovers inside the refrigerator.

“I’ve already saved $6.53 from my allowance?” She made the statement into a question, seeking a response.

Royce returned the carton of milk to the shelf.

“Missy Gilbert said the jackets were going to be on sale at J. C. Penney and with next week’s allowance I’d have almost one fourth of the total cost. I’m trying real hard on my arithmetic this year, you know.”

“Good girl.” The two of them had suffered through more than one go-round with fractions.

Kelly turned her big baby blues full force on him. “What about the jacket, Dad?”

Royce could feel himself giving in. This wasn’t good. He should be a pillar of strength, a wall of granite. He’d already told her once the subject was closed. The jacket she had now was good enough. He remembered when they’d bought it last year. Royce had been appalled at the outrageous shade of putrid green, but Kelly had assured him it was perfect and she would wear it two or three years.

“Dad?” she asked ever so sweetly, the way she always did when she sensed he was weakening.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she cried, rushing across the room and hugging his waist. “You’re the greatest.”

An odd sense of self-consciousness attacked Catherine when she went down to the track the following evening. As she suspected, Royce was there ahead of her, running laps, as were several other men.

Royce hadn’t said more than a handful of words to her all day, which wasn’t unusual. He was as polite and as cool as always. When he came into the office that morning, he’d glanced her way, and Catherine could have sworn he was looking straight through her. His hard blue eyes had passed over her without so much as a flicker of friendliness. If she were to take the time to analyze his look, she suspected it had been one of cool indifference. It wasn’t that Catherine expected him to throw his arms around her and greet her like a long lost friend. On second thought, maybe that was the problem.

They’d shared something on that running track, a camaraderie, an understanding and appreciation for each other. Catherine didn’t expect warm embraces, but she hadn’t expected him to regard her so impersonally. Apparently she’d read more into their talk than he intended.

That was her first mistake, and Catherine feared she was ready to commit mistake number two.

Squaring her shoulders, she traipsed down the hillside to the running track. She was later this evening than she had been the night before. No thanks to Commander Nyland. For the past two hours she’d been reviewing files and charting progress as the substitute coordinator for the physical fitness program. Her eyes hurt, her shoulders ached and she was in no mood to lock horns with the executive officer, unless, of course, he started something first.

Catherine completed her warming-up exercises and joined the others circling the quarter-mile track. She needed to unwind, vent the frustration she felt over being assigned this extra duty, which was an imposition she didn’t need. It seemed that the commander had seen fit to delegate CDO duty that Friday night to someone else. Lucky for that someone.

Her first lap was relaxed. Catherine liked to ease herself into running, starting off slow and gradually gain her momentum, peaking at about the second mile and finishing off the third in a relaxed stride.

Royce passed her easily on the first go-round. Catherine fully expected that he would. Once again she was impressed with the power and strength she felt as he shot past her. His skin was tan and his muscles bronzed. It was as if he were a living, moving work of art, perfect, strong and male. Her heart raced much faster than it should. A rush of sensation so powerful it nearly knocked her off her feet took her by surprise. On the heels of that emotion came another, one more potent than the first. Anger. He zoomed past her again and it was all she could do to hold herself back from charging ahead.

On the third lap she couldn’t help herself, and she let loose, running as though she were in the Olympic time trial and this was her one and only chance to make the team.

The sense of satisfaction she gained leaping past Royce was enough to make her forget how hard she was pushing herself to maintain this stride.

The feeling of triumph was short-lived, as she knew it would be. Royce stepped up his pace and quickly charged around her. Then he slowed down and waited for her steps to join his.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted, cordially enough.

“Commander.” She wasn’t in any mood to wish him a pleasant anything. Once again he’d managed to irritate her. No man had evoked such heated feelings from her, whether they be reasonable or unreasonable. It was all because of Royce Nyland that she’d been the one poring over a carload of files late into the afternoon.

Royce increased his stride, and Catherine struggled to keep even with him. She had the feeling that he could have left her to eat his dust at anytime, and was simply toying with her the way a cat enjoys playing with a cornered mouse. None of that seemed to matter as she pushed herself harder than ever.

After a couple of laps, Catherine sensed his amusement. No doubt she and her damnable pride were a keen source of entertainment to the obstinate executive officer.

Somehow Catherine managed to keep up with Royce for three complete laps, but she knew she couldn’t continue the killing pace any longer. It was either drop out now or collapse. Catherine chose the former.

When she pulled back, slowed her pace to a fast walk, Royce raced ahead, then he surprised her by turning around and coming back. He kept his arms and feet in motion as he matched her speed.

“You all right?”

“Just ducky.” She barely managed to breathe evenly, and prayed a sufficient amount of sarcasm leaked through to convey her mood.

A crooked smile slanted his mouth, his look cool and mocking. “Do you have a problem, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Off the record?” she asked, without hesitating. A month of frustration could no longer be contained, and she was bursting to let him know exactly what she thought of him.

“By all means.”

Catherine might be digging herself in deeper than she dare, but her patience was shot. “Is there something about me that troubles you, Commander?” She didn’t give him time to respond, but rushed ahead, “Because something’s rotten in Denmark, and frankly, it isn’t my problem…. It’s yours.”

“I don’t treat you any differently than anyone else,” Royce inserted smoothly.

“Like hell you don’t,” she shot back heatedly. Thankfully the others had left the track, which might or might not be a blessing.

“I don’t see you assigning anyone else to stand duty four weeks straight. For some unknown reason you’ve chosen to destroy my weekends. I’ve spent eleven years in this man’s Navy and I’ve never stood duty more than once a month. Until you were assigned my XO. Apparently you don’t like me, Commander, and I demand to know why.”

A nerve twitched in his lean, hard jaw. “On the contrary, I find your dedication to duty to be highly commendable.”

Catherine didn’t actually expect him to admit his dislike of her, but she wasn’t willing to listen to his military rhetoric, either. “I suppose my dedication to duty is what made you decide to bless me with this plush job of coordinating the physical fitness program? Was that supposed to be a bonus for all the extra hours I put in on the Miller case? If so, find another way to thank me, would you?” She was trying to talk and draw in deep breaths at the same time and doubted that Royce could make out more than a few words.

Royce stiffened. “Is that all?”

“Not quite.” She was only beginning to gain her momentum. “Off the record, Commander, I think you’re a real jerk.”

When she finished, Catherine was overwhelmed with a feeling of release. She started to tremble, but she wasn’t sure if the shaking could be attributed to the fact she’d pushed herself physically to the point of collapse or that she’d stood on a military compound and shouted insults at her executive officer at the top of her lungs.

His look was impossible to read. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was decidedly uncomfortable.

“Is that a fact?” he demanded.

“Yes.” Her voice wobbled with uncertainty, sounding as though it were coming from the bottom of a well. She drew in a deep breath, knowing she’d stepped over the boundaries of what should and shouldn’t be said to a superior officer. The blood that seemed to have been pounding in her ears like ringing church bells suddenly went silent.

With her hands knotted into tight fists at her sides, she braced herself for the backlash. If she thought to clear the air, she was sadly mistaken. If she’d accomplished anything it was to sabotage her own career.

Royce didn’t say anything for several moments, but the nerve in his jaw continued twitching. Then he nodded as though they’d casually been discussing the weather, turned and resumed running. Catherine was left standing alone to stare after him.

Catherine spent an uncomfortable night, tossing and turning and finally talking over her troubles with Sambo. To her way of thinking, Royce would either ignore her outburst or see to it that she was transferred to a Third World country. However he reacted, she would be getting exactly what she deserved. No one spoke to their XO the way she had. No one.

For hours she lay awake analyzing what had happened. After several soul-seeking sessions, she still didn’t know what had caused her to get loose enough to say the things she did.

The following morning, Royce was already at his desk, behind closed doors when she arrived. She glanced cautiously toward his office. If there was a merciful God, then Commander Nyland would be willing to forget and forgive her outburst from the day before. She would apologize, grovel if need be, but leaving matters as they were was clearly unacceptable.

“Morning,” she said gingerly to Elaine Perkins. “How’s the great white hunter today?” she asked, hoping her secretary had had a chance to judge Royce’s mood.

“Same as usual,” Elaine told her, sipping coffee from a thick ceramic mug. Her voice drawled with a thick southern accent. “He asked me to send you into his office when you arrived.”

Catherine felt the starch go out of her knees. “He asked to see me?”

“You heard me right. What are you looking so worried about? You haven’t done anything, have you?”

“Nothing,” Catherine whispered in reply. Nothing except stick her head in a noose and sling the other end of the rope over the highest branch in the tree.

Squaring her shoulders in her best military form, she walked across the office and knocked politely on the commander’s door. When she was ordered to enter the room, she did so with her eyes focused straight ahead.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Sir.”

“Relax, Catherine.” He leaned back in his chair, his chin resting on folded hands as though he were still weighing his decision.

Relax, he’d told her to relax, only Catherine hadn’t figured out how she was supposed to be at ease when her career was on the line. She hadn’t joined the Navy like so many other women with her head in the clouds, seeking adventure, travel and a paid education. She knew from the beginning about the rigorous routine, the political infighting and the fact she’d be dealing with world-class chauvinists.

Nevertheless she loved being part of the Navy. She’d worked hard, and her efforts had been rewarded. Now this.

“Since our recent discussion I’ve been having second thoughts,” Royce said flatly.

Catherine swallowed against the heaviness in her throat. She doubted if she could have spoken if she tried.

“From everything I’ve read about you, you have an excellent record.” He leaned forward and closed her file. “Effective immediately, I’m removing you as the substitute coordinator of the physical fitness program, and assigning Lieutenant Johnson the duty.”

Catherine was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her eyes, which had been trained on the opposite wall, skirted to his. A breathless moment passed before she could speak, “You’re removing me from the physical fitness program?” She couldn’t have been more surprised had he announced he was working for the KGB.

“That’s what I just said.”

Catherine blinked, not knowing what to say. “Thank you, sir,” she finally managed.

“That will be all,” he said, dismissing her.

She hesitated. She’d wanted to apologize for her outburst from the day before, but one look told her Royce wasn’t interested in listening to her list her excuses.

As it was, her knees were knocking so badly that she walked over to her desk, slumped into the chair and held on to the edge as though it were a lifeline.

Catherine didn’t see Royce for the remainder of the day, for which she was grateful. It gave her time to sort through her emotions, which were as confused and tangled as thin gold chains. She didn’t know what to make of the executive commander. Every time she had him figured out, he’d do something more to confuse her. Complicating the matter even further were her muddled feelings toward him. He was by far the most virile man she’d ever met. She couldn’t be in the same room with him and not experience that magnetism. Yet, she found herself intensely disliking him.

An early October drizzle moistened the air when Catherine walked out to the parking lot later that same afternoon. Rain, rain and more rain.

It was already dark, and her calf muscles were so sore she’d decided to skip running at the track. At least that was the excuse she’d given herself. How much truth there was to her rationale was something she’d prefer not to question.

Her GEO Storm was parked in the far end of the lot, and Catherine walked briskly toward it, hunching her shoulders against the chilly air. She opened her door, gratefully climbed inside and turned the ignition. Nothing. She tried again with the same results. The battery was completely dead.

With her hands braced against the steering wheel, Catherine groaned. She knew as much about the internal workings of a car as she did about performing brain surgery. Her automobile was only a few months old; surely there wasn’t anything wrong with the engine.

Climbing out, she decided to check under the hood. How much good that would do was highly debatable, especially in the dark. It took her several minutes to find the clasp that would release the lock. In the dim light from the street lamp, she couldn’t see much of anything.

The only thing she could think to do was call a towing service. She was walking back to her building when a low black sports car rolled past her, then circled around.

“Problems?” It was Royce Nyland.

Catherine froze, her first instinct was to claim she had everything under control and send him on his way. Lie, fib, anything that would postpone another encounter. She hadn’t had the time to filter through her emotions from the one earlier in the day. Royce Nyland flustered her, and clouded her judgment. She wanted to dislike him, categorize him and wrap him up in one neat package. But every time she’d attempted to gain perspective, he did something to alter her opinion of him. He brought out the worst in her and yet she’d never worked harder to impress an officer. Then it came to her with driving force. She was sexually attracted to Royce Nyland.

Attracted in a way that spelled trouble for them both. As long as she was under his command, anything romantic between them was strictly prohibited. The Navy didn’t pull any punches when it came to emotional involvement between men and women, one a supervisor to the other. Not even a hint of impropriety would be tolerated.

For her sake as well as his, she must ignore the fact her heart raced every time she saw him. She had to ignore the way her eyes sought him out whenever he walked into the room. When they were on the track together, she had to disregard the strength and power that radiated from him like warmth from a roaring fire. Royce Nyland was as off-limits to her as a married man.

“Is that your car?” he asked, obviously impatient with her lack of response.

“Yes…it won’t start.”

“I’ll take a look at it for you.”

Before she could tell him she was about to call for a tow truck, he switched gears and drove over to where her Storm was parked with its hood raised. By the time she walked back, he was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“It looks like you left your lights on this morning. The battery’s dead.”

“Oh…I must have.” She wasn’t usually this slow-witted. Running around the track with Royce was one thing, but standing in the far end of the parking lot in the shadows was another. Instinctively she backed away.

“I have a battery cable in my car. I’ll give you a start.” It took only a matter of minutes for him to arrange the clamps linking the cables between the batteries of the two cars. They worked together and within a matter of minutes, her engine was purring contentedly.

She climbed out of the car while Royce disconnected the cable. Although it wasn’t all that cold, she rubbed her hands together several times.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, tossed the cable into the trunk of his car and was prepared to leave when she stopped him.

“Royce.”

She hadn’t meant to say his name, it had slipped out naturally. Apologizing had never come easy to her, but she owed him one—for the heat of her anger, the unreasonableness of her attack. “I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night. If there’s any excuse, it’s that I was tired and short-tempered. It won’t happen again.”

“It was off the record, Fredrickson, don’t worry about it.” His mouth slowly curved into a smile. Their eyes met, solidly, hungrily and God help her, Catherine felt herself step toward him.

“I’m worried.” But it wasn’t what she’d said or done that she was talking about and she knew they both knew it. His eyes continued to detain hers. She’d never seen eyes so dark. They told her things she’d only suspected. Things she didn’t want to know and had no business knowing.

He was lonely. So was she.

He was alone. So was she.

So alone she lay in bed at night and ached. The need to be touched and held and kissed sometimes filled her with desperation.

She sensed the same desperation in Royce. It was what had drawn them together; it was what was keeping them apart.

The seconds throbbed between them like a giant time clock. Neither moved. Catherine dared not breathe. She was one step from walking directly into his arms, one word from spilling out everything she was feeling. The tension between them was as threatening as a thundercloud in a sky of blue. As strong as a prize fighter.

It was Royce who moved first. Away from her. Catherine sighed, her relief was so great.

“There won’t be any problems,” he whispered, turned and walked away.

She knew he wasn’t speaking about her car.

Catherine wished she could believe it, but something told her it was far from the truth.

Royce was shaking. His hands were actually trembling as he sat in his own driveway, composing himself before he walked inside the house. He’d come so close to kissing Catherine that even now the thought of her filling his arms was enough to produce an ache so powerful, so sharp, it took his breath away. Royce was a man who thrived on discipline. He prided himself on his self-control, and yet he’d come a hair’s space from tossing away everything he knew was right. And for what reason? Catherine Fredrickson turned him on.

For three years, Royce had shut off the valve that controlled his carnal appetites. He didn’t need love, didn’t need tenderness or require a woman’s touch. Those were base emotions, best ignored. And neglect them he had until he’d met Catherine.

From the moment she’d walked into his office, he’d been confronted with a surge of unexpected, and unwanted feelings. He hadn’t recognized what he was dealing with in the beginning. Subconsciously he had, otherwise he would never have gone out of his way to ruin her weekends by assigning her duty four Friday nights running. It didn’t take a psychiatrist’s couch to figure that one. He’d been batting a thousand when her name was the first one that drifted into his mind when he learned a substitute coordinator was going to be needed for the physical fitness program.

In analyzing his deeds, Royce realized he was punishing Catherine. With just cause. The lieutenant commander was a constant thorn in his flesh, a reminder that he was a man with needs that refused to be denied any longer.

Unfortunately there was a good deal more at stake than satisfying a deep physical hunger. Catherine was under his command, which put pressure on them both. She was strictly off limits. Neither of them could afford to indulge in this attraction. It would only end up hurting them both. Their careers would suffer, and they’d both worked too damn hard to screw it up now over a few undisciplined hormones.

Dragging a fresh breath through his lungs, Royce closed his eyes and tried to push the picture of Catherine from his mind. He’d seen the emotions tearing at her in the parking lot, witnessed the pride-filled way in which she’d tilted her chin. Damn but the woman was proud. She apologized, accepting all the blame herself, although heaven knew everything she’d said was right. In that moment, he never respected a woman more. For her honesty, for her directness, for the fact she was willing to deal with whatever it was between them, lay it on the ground and call it what it was.

In those few words, heavy with meaning, Catherine had told him something he’d long suspected. Lieutenant Commander Catherine Fredrickson was a woman of substance. One so rare, one so beautiful, he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to get her out of his mind. All he knew was that he must succeed even if it meant requesting a transfer and uprooting Kelly from the only home she’d ever known.




Chapter Three


“Can we go to a movie, too?” Kelly asked, snapping her seat belt into place. They were on their way to the Kitsap Mall, where the all-important jacket was on sale. It was either buy his daughter the coat or ruin her life before the eyes of her peers. Royce couldn’t remember clothes and shoes being so vital when he was in grade school, but the world was a hell of a lot different place when he was ten.

“Dad?” Kelly pressed. “What about a movie?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily enough. Why not? He’d been short-tempered all week, due mainly to the fact he was dealing with his feelings for Catherine. Kelly deserved a reward for putting up with his sour mood.

As for what was happening—or better said, what was not happening—between him and Catherine, Royce had rarely spent a more uncomfortable week. He couldn’t walk into the office without being aware of her. Her presence was like a time bomb silently ticking in the corner of the room. Every now and again their eyes would meet and he’d be left to watch the emotions race across the landscape of her dark brown eyes. With everyone around them in the office, there hadn’t been a problem. It was the evening run that tested his soul.

Every afternoon Royce told himself he wouldn’t run. Every afternoon, like precision clockwork, he was at the track, waiting for Catherine to arrive. They ran together, without speaking, without sharing, without looking at each other.

It was uncanny the comfort he found circling the track with the petite lieutenant commander at his side. The track was neutral ground, safe territory for them both. Those all-too-short minutes with Catherine were the reason he got out of bed in the morning, the reason he made it through the day.

When she smiled at him, Royce swore her eyes scored his heart. In the evenings when they’d finished jogging, Catherine would thank him for the workout and then silently return to her car. The moment she was out of sight, Royce was left feeling bereft. He hadn’t realized what poor company a disciplined life-style could make, and what poorer company the long, lonely nights in an empty bed could be. The desolation was as powerful as a blow to his gut.

The evenings were another matter. He almost feared sleep because the moment he slipped into unconsciousness, Catherine filled his mind. She was soft and warm, and so real that all he had to do was reach out and draw her to his side. Royce would never have guessed his mind would play such cruel tricks on him. He was having trouble enough keeping Catherine at a distance, emotionally and physically. In sleep, his mind welcomed her, tormenting him with dreams he couldn’t control. Dreams of Catherine running toward him on the beach, holding her arms out to him. Catherine feminine and soft in his embrace. Catherine laughing. Royce swore he never heard a sound more beautiful in all his life.

If there was anything to be grateful for, and it was damn little, it was the fact the dreams had never developed into anything even remotely physical between them.

In the mornings, Royce woke annoyed with himself, annoyed at Catherine for refusing to leave him alone and irritated with the world. With all the strength of his will, which was admittedly formidable, Royce pushed all thoughts of the lieutenant commander from his mind.

For as long as Catherine was under his command, all Royce could indulge himself in were involuntary dreams. He refused to allow himself the pleasure of recapturing the fantasy of him and Catherine alone together in quiet moments. Unhurried moments. With no demands. No deadlines. Moments when his heart and his soul were at rest.

Life could be a cruel hoax, Royce sharply reminded himself. He’d been taught that time and time again. He wasn’t about to lose everything that was important to him over a woman, even if she did have eyes that looked straight through him.

The mall was crowded, but then it generally was on weekends, especially now that folks were gearing up for Christmas. Royce allowed Kelly to drag him into the J. C. Penney store. But that was only the beginning of the ordeal. The jacket she was so keen on had sold out in her size. The helpful salesclerk had phoned three other stores and there wasn’t a single one available. Even the catalog had sold out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Royce told her. She was bitterly disappointed and trying hard not to show it.

“Do you want to look around for a different coat?” Surely there was a father-of-the-year award for him in this offer. They’d spent nearly an hour on this wild-goose chase already, and Royce’s patience had worn paper thin.

Kelly sat on the wooden bench outside the department store, her head bent low. Royce was about to repeat the question when she shrugged.

“How about something to drink?” Royce was half an hour overdue for a cup of coffee.

Kelly nodded eagerly. She stood and slipped her small hand into his. She didn’t do that often, and Royce guessed she did so now needing his reassurance.

Royce bought her a Pepsi and himself a cup of fresh, hot coffee while Kelly scouted out a place for them to sit. Since it was close to noon, the tables were mostly occupied. They found one and sat down in the white wire chairs.

“Dad,” Kelly whispered excitedly, “look at that pretty lady over there.”

Hell, as far as Royce could see, the entire mall was filled with pretty ladies. “Where?”

“The one in the pink-and-green-and-blue jacket. Over there.” Knowing it was impolite to point, Kelly wiggled her index finger back and forth in the general direction of where she wanted him to look. “Look, she’s sorta walking toward us. Hurry and look before she turns away.”

As he’d mused earlier, life could be filled with cruel hoaxes, and it was about to play another one on him now. Before he even realized what he was doing, Royce was on his feet. “Hello, Catherine.”

“Royce.” Her dark eyes were bright with surprise as well, and frankly, she didn’t look any more pleased than he felt.

“How are you?” he heard himself ask stiffly.

“Fine.”

“Dad.” Impatiently, Kelly tugged on the hem of his leather jacket. “I like her coat…a whole lot.”

Royce watched as Catherine’s eyes momentarily left his and landed on Kelly. Once again surprise registered in the dark depths, but was quickly replaced by a gentleness and warmth that tightened strong cords around his heart. He’d never mentioned his daughter, and it was apparent she hadn’t known he’d been married. Maybe she thought he was married still.

“This is my daughter, Kelly,” Royce said, his voice low and throaty.

“Hello, Kelly. I’m Catherine.” She dragged her eyes away from him and held out her hand to his daughter. “Your dad and I work together.” She said this, Royce was convinced, as a reminder to them both. Hell, he didn’t need it.

“Your jacket is real pretty,” Kelly said quietly. She continued to tug on Royce’s sleeve until he was convinced she’d pulled the armhole down to his elbow.

“What Kelly would like to know is where you bought it,” Royce inserted dryly.

“And if they have kid sizes?” the ten-year-old asked excitedly.

“I got it right here in the mall, in Jacobson’s.”

“Dad,” Kelly said, pushing aside her drink, “let’s go look, okay?”

Royce glanced longingly at his coffee. He’d barely had time to take a single sip. Kelly was looking at him as if to say Jacobson’s was sure to sell out in the next ten minutes if they didn’t get there.

“I don’t know if they have kid sizes,” Kelly stated urgently, as though another five or ten minutes was sure to make the difference. “I know it’s a ladies’ store and everything, but you can wait outside if you want and I’ll go in by myself.”

“Why don’t I take you down,” Catherine suggested.

It took a fair amount of self-control not to leap up and kiss her. “You don’t mind?” He had to ask. Pride demanded that much, at least.

“Not a bit. Go ahead and enjoy your coffee,” Catherine suggested, her gaze returning to him. “We won’t be more than a few minutes.”

He should refuse. Royce knew it the minute she made the offer, but Kelly was looking up at him, her eyes alive with excitement, and before he could argue with himself, he nodded.

A daughter, Catherine mused. Royce had a daughter. Catherine had worked with him for five weeks, and no one had bothered to mention the fact he’d been married or that he was raising Kelly. The child was incredibly sweet, with long dark hair and eyes so blue they reminded Catherine of wild bluebonnets. Kelly was as gentle and cute as Royce was remote and indifferent.

Catherine had noted how closely Royce had watched her when he introduced Kelly. His eyes had darkened into a brittle defiance as though he expected her to do or say something about the fact she hadn’t known about the child. She found herself staring at him and the proud lines of his chiseled features. Catherine’s gaze had moved smoothly from father to daughter. There was no doubt in her mind the two were related. Kelly possessed the same beautiful blue eyes, and although her face was heart-shaped and feminine, she was clearly a Nyland.

Until she’d walked into the shopping complex, Catherine hadn’t realized how hungry she was for the sight of Royce. From clear across the other side of the mall, she’d walked directly to his side, guided by instinct to the man who’d dominated her thoughts for days on end.

“We went to the J. C. Penney store,” Kelly explained as they walked side by side down the wide concourse, “but all the jackets in my size were sold. We looked and looked and I was feeling really low so Dad bought me a Pepsi and then we saw you,” Kelly explained in one giant breath. “Your jacket is just perfect.”

Catherine had bought it a couple of weeks earlier. Being new to the Pacific Northwest, she needed something heavier than a raincoat. The jacket had caught her eye in a ski shop, and although Catherine didn’t ski, she’d been attracted to the colors, just the way Kelly had.

“I like it, too. And as I recall, they did have children’s sizes.”

“Dad doesn’t like to shop much,” Kelly explained as they wove their way between the moving crowd. “He does it for me, but I know he’d rather be watching a silly football game. Men are like that, you know?”

“So I’ve heard.” As far as understanding the male of the species, Royce’s daughter knew a whole lot more than Catherine did. For as long as she could remember, it had always been her and her mother. In college she’d lived in a girls’ dormitory.

“Dad tries real hard, but he doesn’t understand a lot of things about girls.”

Catherine couldn’t help grinning at that. Evidently she wasn’t the only one at a loss when it came to understanding the opposite sex. Apparently what she and Royce needed was a ten-year-old to straighten out their lives.

They found the store, and indeed there was a jacket almost identical to the one Catherine had that was in Kelly’s size. After Royce’s daughter tried it on and modeled it in front of a mirror, Catherine had the salesclerk put it on hold.

Kelly raced back to the large open eating area to tell Royce about the rare find. Catherine followed close behind.

“It’s got pink and green and blue. Not the same shade of blue as Catherine’s, but almost. I can have it, can’t I?” She dug into her small pocket at the top of her jeans and dragged out the five single dollar bills one at a time and then several coins from a different pocket. “I’ll pay for part of it.”

Royce stood and tossed the empty coffee cup into the garbage. “All right, all right. I know when I’m defeated.” He glanced over at Catherine and winked.

Catherine couldn’t believe it. The iceman winked as if he were a regular human being. Royce Nyland was one man in the office, another on the running track and someone else entirely different when he was with his daughter.

“I…can see you’ve got everything under control here,” Catherine said, thinking she should probably leave. She felt awkward with Royce.

“Don’t go,” Kelly cried, reaching for Catherine’s hand with both of her own. “Dad said he’d buy me pizza for lunch, and I want you to come, too.”

“I’m sure Catherine has other plans,” Royce said matter-of-factly.

Catherine noted that he didn’t repeat the invitation, which was just as well. Yet, she couldn’t hold back the sense of disappointment. “Yes, I do have some things to do. I was just going into the pet store to buy my cat a new litter box.”

“I love the pet store,” Kelly piped in eagerly. “Once they even let me hold a new puppy. I wanted to buy it real bad, but Dad said we couldn’t because there wouldn’t be anyone home during the day to take care of him.”

Catherine’s heart melted as she gazed down on Royce’s daughter. So young and tender. Catherine remembered herself at that age and how life had been such a wonderful adventure then.

“Oh, do come, Catherine. Please.”

Catherine’s gaze moved to Royce. She expected his eyes to be cool and unreadable as they were so much of the time. Instead she found them troubled and unsure, yet inviting. Catherine felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.

“I…are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?” By everything that was right, she knew she should refuse. They were standing so close to the fire, close enough to get burned, and yet they each seemed to be taking turns tossing kindling into the flames.

“I’m sure,” Royce answered.

“Oh, good,” Kelly cried, seemingly unaware of the tension between Catherine and her father. “I certainly hope you don’t like anchovies. Dad gets them on his half whenever we order pizza. Those things are disgusting.”

A half hour later, they were sitting in a pizza parlor. Catherine and Kelly shared an Italian sausage and olive pizza pie while Royce ate his own, covered with the tiny fish both women found so offensive.

Although it was comfortably warm inside the restaurant, Kelly insisted upon wearing her new coat.

“Are those fingernails actually yours?” Kelly asked halfway through the meal.

Catherine nodded, her mouth full of pizza.

“You mean you don’t have a single acrylic tip?”

It was incredible to Catherine that a ten-year-old knew about such things. “Not even one,” she assured the girl.

Kelly’s eyes widened with renewed respect. She held up her hand for Catherine to examine, showing the short, stubby ends of her own nails. Catherine reached for her purse and brought out her fingernail kit for Kelly to examine, explaining each instrument.

“What are you two talking about?” Royce demanded in mock exasperation. “As near as I can figure, you women have your own language.”

Kelly reverently closed the case and returned it to Catherine. Her eyes drifted from Royce to her and then back again. Catherine could almost see the tiny wheels churning in the little girl’s head.

“Are you married, Catherine?” The girl asked innocently enough.

“Ah…no.” Catherine’s throat felt tight and dry all of a sudden.

“Neither is my dad,” the ten-year-old added, her words fraught with meaning. “My mom died, you know?” Kelly said it with complete lack of emotion, as though losing a mother was simply part of growing up.

“No…I wasn’t aware of that.” Catherine avoided looking at Royce.

Kelly took another couple of moments to assess the situation. “So you and my dad work together?”

“Kelly Lynn.” Royce used a tone Catherine had heard often in the office. It brought trained sailors to attention, and it worked just as well with his daughter.

“I was only asking.”

“Then don’t.”

“All right, all right, but I didn’t mean anything by it.” Royce’s daughter returned to her pizza, took a bite and chewed two or three times before adding. “Catherine’s coming to the movie with us, isn’t she?” The question was directed to Royce, who once more narrowed his eyes at his daughter.

“I’ll let you choose the movie if you want,” Kelly offered. Evidently the choice of which film they’d see was a long-standing battle between them, and that she’d offer to let him pick was a major concession.

Catherine didn’t know what Royce was waiting for. He shouldn’t even be entertaining his daughter’s suggestion. The fact they were having lunch together was one thing, but sitting in a movie theater together would be…should be out of the question.

“Dad?” Kelly probed.

Royce looked to Catherine, and his hard blue eyes held hers for the long, drawn-out moment. Tension thickened the air until she was convinced neither of them was breathing.

“Catherine has other things to do,” Royce informed his daughter.

Catherine was quick to reassure Kelly. “I really do, sweetheart. Perhaps we can all go another time.”

Royce’s young daughter accepted Catherine’s decision with a quick nod, but it was apparent the girl was disappointed. She wasn’t the only one. Catherine’s heart felt as heavy as concrete. She’d never felt closer to Royce than this time with his daughter. He’d lowered his guard enough for her to glimpse the nurturing, caring man shielded behind the thick wall of pride and tradition.

After wiping her hands clean with a napkin, Catherine reached for her purse and slid from the booth. “Thank you both for lunch, but I really should be going.”

Kelly slid out of the booth, too. “I wish you were going to the movie with us.”

Her eyes found Royce’s as she whispered, “So do I.”

Catherine was halfway to the door when Royce stopped her. For a moment he didn’t say anything, but stared down at her. His face revealed none of his thoughts, and briefly Catherine was aware of what a talent he possessed to hide his emotions so well.

His eyes continued to hold hers and seemed to scorch her with their intensity before he spoke, listing the movie and the time. “In case you change your mind,” he said, before turning back to his daughter.

By the time Catherine was inside her car, she’d started to tremble. What was the matter with Royce? Had he gone mad? Had she?

Royce, her XO, knowing what they were both risking, seemed to be telling her he wanted her to come to the movie. But he was leaving the decision in her hands. God help them both, she wanted it, too.

A movie wasn’t an affair, she reminded herself. If they both happened to show up at the same movie at the same time, no one would put the wrong connotation on that. The rule book didn’t say they couldn’t be friends. If friends just happened to meet at a movie, it wouldn’t be unheard of for them to sit together. Would it?

Catherine didn’t know what to do. Her head was telling her one thing, and her heart another. Both their careers could be jeopardized. It was far too much to risk for the pleasure of sitting next to each other in a matinee.

Yet when the time approached, Catherine was behind a line of preteens. Her heart was hammering so loudly, she was convinced everyone around her must be able to hear it, too. Once she glanced over her shoulder, thinking the shore patrol was on her tail. The thought was ludicrous, which only went to prove the state of her mind.

Royce was sitting in the last row, with Kelly in the seat next to him. The girl noticed Catherine immediately and leaped up from her chair as though she’d been sitting on a giant coiled spring. She hurriedly scooted down the aisle and enthusiastically hugged Catherine.

“I was hoping you’d come.” She grabbed Catherine’s hand and energetically led her to the seats.

Catherine didn’t look at Royce. She feared what she’d read in his eyes.

“Missy’s here,” Kelly cried, and waved madly, as though the fate of the free world depended on how quickly her friend recognized her. “Can I go show her my new coat?”

Royce’s hesitation was noticeable before he agreed, and Kelly raced away.

Catherine sat down, leaving an empty seat between them

Royce continued to look straight ahead as though he’d never seen her in his life. “Are you crazy?” he hissed under his breath after an exaggerated moment. But it was the kind of anger that comes from caring too much, directed at himself as much as at her.

“Are you?” she came back just as heatedly. She was equally furious and for all the same reasons. She wasn’t going to take the blame for this. She’d made her decision and her excuses at the restaurant. They both had. He was the one who’d dropped the anchor in her lap by making a point of letting her know which movie and what showing. He’d blatantly asked her to come, and now he seemed to regret she was there.

“Yes, I think I am crazy,” Royce admitted reluctantly.

“I wasn’t going to come,” she told him softly. Even after he’d let it be known he wanted her with him and Kelly.

“Then why did you?”

Catherine didn’t know. Maybe it was because she liked to live dangerously, walk as close to the edge of the cliff as possible without falling off. “I don’t know. Why did you?”

Royce chuckled, but there was no amusement in his laugh. “Hell, I don’t know. I guess I like tampering with the fates.”

“Dad.” Kelly was scooting down the narrow row sideways in a rush to return to her father. “Missy wants me to sit with her. You don’t care, do you?”

Once again Royce hesitated before answering. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Kelly scooted past Catherine, paused and winked. Winked! The same way Royce had winked at her earlier. Only she didn’t know what Kelly meant any more than she’d understood the gesture from Royce.

Kelly left to join her friend, and the tension between her and Royce was so strong, Catherine didn’t know if she could endure it any longer.

“I’ll move.” She started to stand, when he stopped her.

“No,” Royce said automatically, his hand grasping her arm. “Stay.” The word was soft and pleading.

Catherine couldn’t refuse him, and when she sat down, he moved one seat over, sitting next to her. Almost immediately the theater darkened and music filled the room. Royce stretched out his long legs, and his thigh inadvertently brushed hers. Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at the sudden rush of sensation that raced up and down her limb. Royce, too, gave a small gasp. The firm pressure of his leg felt muscular and hard. It was funny how easy it was for her to forget how good a man can feel. Catherine glanced up to find Royce openly studying her. His eyes were bright with a heat that warmed her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. With a determined effort she dragged her gaze away from his.

Royce shifted his weight and with a good deal of reluctance moved his leg. They both breathed a little easier. This was difficult enough without adding more temptation, more fuel to the fire.

Catherine doubted that either one of them was able to follow the plot of the movie. If anyone had asked her, Catherine wouldn’t have been able to discuss a single detail. Her concentration was centered on the man sitting next to her.

At some point, Royce thrust a bucket of popcorn between them. In an effort to fix her attention on the screen, Catherine reached for a handful of the kernels and ate them one by one. About the third or fourth dip into the bucket, Catherine’s hand inadvertently bumped Royce’s. She quickly withdrew her fingers, only Royce wouldn’t allow it. He reached out and grasped her hand, then slowly, as if damning himself for his weakness, laced his fingers one by one with hers. His grip was tight, his nails cutting into her smooth flesh. It was as though he never intended on letting her go. The bucket of popcorn disappeared, and still Royce held her hand.

There was no way Catherine could explain the tumult of emotion that overtook her at the gesture. A host of unexplainable sensations assailed her, hidden, unrecognized emotions were so prominent that her head started to spin. If he was kissing her or touching her breasts or making love to her, Catherine could have understood, could have accepted her reaction.

But all he was dong was holding her hand.

She’d never felt more vulnerable or more exposed. She was risking everything that was important to her. Royce was taking a chance with his career, and for what?

The question was a harsh one, and the answer…the answer was even harsher. She knew next to nothing about Royce. He’d been married, his wife had died and there was a child. He was Navy, a man born to lead others. He was respected. Admired. But they’d never sat down and talked about their lives, never shared anything beyond the basic everyday-working-together kind of conversation. That they should experience this powerful pull toward each other, this forceful attraction, was a quirk of nature. There was no rhyme. No reason. Yet it would have taken an act of congress to move Catherine out of that movie theater.

The film ended. Catherine was hardly aware of the fact until he released her hand. She wanted to protest, longing to maintain the contact, as innocent as it was, until the last possible moment.

“Catherine,” he whispered, leaning close. “Go now.”

“But…”

“For the love of God, don’t argue with me. Just leave.”

Something in his voice, a warning, a threat, Catherine didn’t know which, prompted her to move quickly. “I’ll see you Monday,” she said, standing.

But she’d be thinking about him every minute in between.

“Is there something going on between you and Commander Nyland?” Elaine Perkins asked Monday morning when Catherine arrived for work.

Her heart sank to her knees before quickly rebounding. “What makes you ask that?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain light and breezy.

“He wants to see you first thing. Again.”

“He wants to see me first thing?” Catherine was beginning to sound like an echo.

“And when the almighty commander speaks, we obey,” Elaine said as a means of reminding them both. “All I want to know is what you’ve done this time?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” Catherine asked as she hung up her coat.

“Because he looks like he’s in a mood to wrestle crocodiles. That man is as mean as a shark with a toothache, and if I were you, I wouldn’t tangle with him.”

“Don’t worry.” Squaring her shoulders, she approached Royce’s office and knocked politely.

“Come in.” His frown deepened when he saw her. Perkins was right; Royce didn’t look any too cheerful. The iceman had returned. Gone was the indulgent father, replaced by the man so ingrained in military procedure Catherine was convinced she had been imagining someone else on Saturday.




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