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The commander dragged in another deep breath. “I don’t mean to sound fatalistic, but I don’t have any family. My wife left me years ago—no kids. My brother died a few years back and I’ve never updated my will.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” she told him softly.
His hand clutched hers. “Money to charity. Decide for me. Promise you’ll decide for me.”
“I will, but, Commander…”
He wasn’t listening anymore, she realized. The pain was too intense.
“I’m going into surgery with you,” she whispered. “If God decides it’s your time, He’ll have to argue with me first.” Although she was certain he was past hearing anything, she thought she detected a faint smile.
As the surgery progressed, Ali wanted to chastise the commander for waiting so long to seek medical attention. He had risked his life because of—what? Pride? Ignoring the pain hadn’t made it go away. An infected appendix was not going to heal itself.
The surgery was routine until they found that, exactly as she’d suspected, the appendix had burst. Extra time and care was needed to ensure that the infection was completely eradicated before it could spread to the entire abdominal area. Peritonitis could be fatal. Having a ruptured appendix wasn’t as life-threatening as in years past, but it was serious enough.
After the surgery, Commander Dillon’s incision was closed and he was taken into Recovery. Lieutenant Rowland was sent in to replace Ali, whose shift had ended.
“I’ll stay with him a bit longer,” she told Rowland. Sitting at the commander’s bedside, she took his blood pressure every twenty minutes until he woke from the anesthesia several hours later.
He moved his head instinctively toward Ali, who sat by his side.
She smiled and touched his brow. “God didn’t put up much of an argument. It seems that neither heaven nor hell was interested in collecting your soul, Commander.”
“You sure about that?” he whispered weakly. “I thought this pain meant I was in hell.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Like someone hacked me open with a saw blade.”
“I’ll give you something for the pain.” She stood and reached for his chart to make a notation. “Rest now. Your body’s had quite a time of it.” That was an understatement, but she felt better knowing he was awake. His vital signs confirmed that he was out of immediate danger.
Ali sat with the commander for another hour and then reluctantly turned her patient over to Rowland.
“Do you know the commander?” the lieutenant asked as she left the recovery area.
“I met him our first day out.”
Rowland seemed surprised that she’d stayed with him. It surprised Ali, too. She was busy these days and got as little as four or five hours’ sleep a night, but hadn’t been able to make herself leave. One thing was certain: this man had her attention. Just as Adam had Shana’s…
Frank Dillon was lost in a dark, lonely world. Every so often he heard a soft, feminine voice and it confused him. He couldn’t figure out where he was. Then he remembered the pain, the surgery, the nurse—that soft voice was the nurse talking to him. The one who haunted his dreams. He prayed it was her and in the same breath pleaded for God to send her away. Her touch was light, and on the rare occasions when he found the strength to open his eyes, she was standing by his side.
She smelled good. Not of flowers or perfume, but a distinct womanly scent. Clean and subtle and…just nice. It lured him unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. He wasn’t a man accustomed to the ways of women. He’d lived his life in the Navy and for the Navy, and he’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t meant to be a Navy husband.
He’d married at twenty-five and Laura had left him two years later. That had been nearly twenty years ago. His wife had walked out when she realized no amount of crying, pleading or cajoling would persuade him to resign his commission. She knew before they were married that he’d made the Navy his career, the same as his father and grandfather had. Nothing was more important to Frank than duty and honor. Not his marriage, not Laura, not one damn thing. She hadn’t been able to reconcile herself to that and he doubted any woman ever could. Other commitments took second place to military life. He’d accepted that, and dedicated himself to his career. Not once in all those years had he regretted his decision. Until now—and now he would willingly have sold his soul to keep this woman at his side. He needed her, wanted her and he didn’t care what it cost him.
Some of his fellow officers had been against letting women serve at sea. Frank hadn’t been one of them. Now he wasn’t so sure his peers had been wrong. Senior Medical Officer Alison Karas had taken up far more of his thoughts than warranted. He’d decided from their first, chance encounter to stay away from her; he wasn’t risking his career for a shipboard romance. Avoiding her was easy enough to accomplish with five thousand sailors aboard the USS Woodrow Wilson. It was just his luck that she was the one on duty. Luck or fate? He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.
A cool hand touched his brow, followed by Alison’s quiet voice. Unable to make out the words, Frank thought it might have been a prayer. Apparently he was worse off than he’d known, although she seemed to think she had some influence with the Man Upstairs. Her constancy touched him. No one had ever done anything like that before—not for him.
The darkness didn’t bother him anymore. He was at peace, even though a vague memory, something about Alison, hovered just out of reach. She was with him. He planned to tell her how much her presence meant to him.
If he lived through this.
The next morning, the USS Woodrow Wilson was hit by a raging storm. The massive ship had turned into the typhoon, and there was nothing to do but ride it out. Thankfully, Ali had never been prone to seasickness, but a number of men were sent to sick bay. She had her hands full the first day of the storm, but things had settled down by the second. During a quiet moment, she went in to check on Commander Dillon. He was sitting up in bed, still pale and not in the best of moods.
“What the hell is going on topside?” he demanded the moment he saw her.
“We’re in the midst of a typhoon, Commander.”
He tossed aside his sheet and seemed ready to climb out of bed. “Get me out of here.”
“No.” She prevented him from moving farther.
From the way his eyes widened, Ali could tell that it wasn’t often anyone stood up to the high and mighty commander. “I’m the navigator and I’m needed topside,” he argued, his face reddening.
“This might come as a shock, Commander Dillon, but the Navy stayed afloat without you for more than two hundred years. They’ll manage to survive for another day or so. Now stay in bed, otherwise I’ll have you restrained.”
His blue eyes flared. “You wouldn’t.”
Although her heart was pounding, Ali didn’t dare let her nervousness show. “I don’t think that’s something you’d like to find out. Your orders are to stay in bed until Captain Coleman says otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
His gaze challenged hers, but then, apparently reaching a decision, he nodded. Although he wasn’t happy about it, he would abide by what he knew was best.
Ali was grateful. Under normal circumstances, the commander wasn’t a man to cross; she’d figured that out quickly enough. And if his scowl was any indication, he was on the mend. He’d been in bad shape the first few days, but his improvement was steady. To show him how much she appreciated his cooperation, she patted his arm.
He stiffened as if he found her touch offensive and Ali quickly backed away. While he was under anesthesia, she’d touched him many times. In an effort to comfort him, she’d stroked his brow and talked to him in soothing tones. She’d frequently taken his pulse and blood pressure and let her hand linger on his arm, hoping he’d sense her encouragement and concern. Perhaps she’d grown too familiar, too personal.
“I apologize,” he muttered gruffly.
Embarrassed, Ali retreated an additional step. “No, the fault is mine—I’m sorry.” By all rights, she should turn and leave. The clinic was busy. Sailors were waiting. She should get while the getting was good, as her grandmother used to say.
“You were with me in Recovery until I regained consciousness, weren’t you?” he whispered.
She nodded, afraid they were taking a dangerous risk by acknowledging this attraction. Not since Peter’s death had Ali allowed herself to feel anything for another man. In fact, she’d been certain she never would and now…now she wasn’t sure what to think.
“Any particular reason you stayed with me all those hours?” he asked.
Ali didn’t know what to tell him. Honesty might be the best policy, but there were times the truth was better
avoided. This appeared to be one of those times. “Your appendix had ruptured, Commander. In such cases, there’s a significant chance of complications. It was easier for me just to remain on duty than explain the situation to my shift replacement.” Ali used her best professional voice, making it as devoid of emotion as she could.
He seemed to accept her explanation and answered with an abrupt nod.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked, moving away from his bedside.
“Not a thing,” he replied in clipped tones, and Ali knew he was referring to a whole lot more than his medical situation.
Chapter Ten
As promised, Adam Kennedy was at the restaurant by ten on Saturday morning. Shana had anticipated this moment—no, dreaded it—all week. She might’ve been able to push the lieutenant commander from her mind if it weren’t for Jazmine, who found every excuse in the world to bring up his name. They could be discussing the migration habits of Canada geese, and Jazmine would somehow link the topic with her uncle Adam. It didn’t matter what they discussed, Adam Kennedy became part of the conversation.
Shana didn’t resent the fact that her niece called Adam her uncle anymore. It seemed natural for her to do so. What didn’t seem natural—or fair—was the way he’d infiltrated her thoughts. And, in all honesty, that wasn’t just due to Jazmine.
“Good morning,” Adam said as he marched into the restaurant with a crisp military gait that said he was ready for action. He wore black jeans and a casual denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
“Hi.” Her voice faltered a little. This was one attractive man, a fact she was trying hard to ignore. Nonetheless, her hands trembled as she reached for a paper towel and wiped them clean. “Jazmine brought her Rollerblades.” Thankfully it was early enough that the ice-cream parlor didn’t have any customers yet.
“I saw. She put on a show for me in the parking lot.”
“Oh.” Now that was an intelligent response and Shana resisted the urge to kick herself. She intensely disliked the way Adam made her feel like an awkward teenager. Until recently, she’d considered herself a competent professional, a woman who could cope with any social situation, and it irked her no end that this man could agitate her like this. “Where are you two headed today?” she asked conversationally, hoping to hide her complete lack of a brain.
Adam sauntered up to the cash register, apparently in no hurry to leave. “I haven’t decided yet. I thought I’d get some suggestions from Miss Jazz.”
“Good idea.” Before she sent him off with Jazmine, perhaps she should enlighten him about her niece’s continuing efforts to match up the two of them. “Do you have a few minutes before you go?”
“Sure.” He slid onto one of the stools.
Rubbing her palms against her apron, Shana took a moment to clear her thoughts. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she began, “but Jazmine seems to be working hard at, uh, getting the two of us together.” She paused. “This is in spite of your…little talk.”
Adam leaned forward. “I got the hint in our last phone conversation, when she started mentioning your name in practically every sentence.”
“She does that to you, too?” Interesting. And, she supposed, predictable. “You’re a frequent topic of conversation yourself.”
He chuckled. “She’s been e-mailing me updates on you.”
“Updates on what?”
“I haven’t paid a lot of attention.”
She was unexpectedly miffed by that but decided his indifference was probably for the best.
“By the way, how’s Brad?”
Shana nearly bit her tongue in an effort to hide her reaction. “I thought you said you weren’t paying attention,” she said. “Brad isn’t important.”
“Really? That’s curious because—”
“I have something to discuss,” she said, cutting him off before they both got sidetracked by the unpleasant subject of Brad.
“Have at it,” Adam said, gesturing toward her.
“First, since we’re both aware that Jazmine’s busy playing matchmaker, it seems the best defense is to be honest with each other.” She half expected an argument.
“I agree.”
He seemed utterly relaxed; in contrast, Shana’s nerves were as tight as an overwound guitar string.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful with Jazmine and…and mildly attractive.” The man already had an overblown ego and she wasn’t about to give him any encouragement.
“Really?” He perked up at that.
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly, “and there are probably a few other positive traits I could add.”
He checked his watch. “I have time.”
She ignored him. “But without going into why I feel a relationship between us wouldn’t work—”
“Aren’t you being a little hasty?” he asked without allowing her to finish.
“No,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m not interested.” She wondered if a big red neon light spelling liar was flashing over her head. She was interested, but she suspected this whole attraction thing was just the result of being on the rebound. She needed to take it slow, ease into another relationship. Letting Adam Kennedy sweep her off her feet was definitely a bad idea.
He stared at her blankly. “Interested in what?”
“You. I don’t mean to be blunt or rude, but I felt I should be clear about that.”
“No problem.” He shrugged, his expression unchanged.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t,” he assured her and he certainly didn’t look put off by her confession.
“It’s just that this isn’t the right time for me to get involved,” she rushed to add, confused now and more than a little embarrassed. She wished she’d thought this through more carefully. “I’ve only had the business a short while, and all my energy and resources are tied up in it.”
“Of course. That makes perfect sense.”
“This has nothing to do with you personally.” She was only digging herself in deeper now but couldn’t seem to stop.
“Shana, it’s not a problem. Don’t worry, okay? If anything, it’s a relief.”
“It is?” she blurted out.
“We should keep each other informed,” he murmured. “Just like you suggested. Jazmine is a sweet kid, but we both need to be aware of her game plan.”
“Exactly.” She felt guilty about the things she’d said. “I hope I didn’t offend you—sometimes my tongue goes faster than my brain.”
“Not at all,” he told her patiently.
“Good.” It was probably ridiculous to be so worried about a nine-year-old’s scheme and even more ridiculous to mention it to Adam. Thankfully he’d taken everything with a sense of humor.
“Uncle Adam!” Jazmine skated into the parlor and at one glance from Shana, sat down and removed her skates. “Are you done yet? Can we leave now?”
“In a minute.”
“Great!” Jazmine looked about as happy as Shana could remember seeing her. “School’s out for the year.” She slipped on her tennis shoes without bothering to tie them.
Shana’s cheeks still burned with embarrassment and she was eager to see Adam and Jazmine leave. “You guys have a great time,” she mumbled. “Bye.”
Adam slid off the stool and with Jazmine at his side, they ambled out. After the door closed, Shana felt oddly depressed, although she couldn’t name the precise reason. She didn’t want to analyze it, either.
