Navy Brat

He should have. He’d wanted to. Until now he hadn’t been willing to admit how damn much he had longed to taste her again.

Brand rolled over onto his stomach and nuzzled his face into the thick softness of the pillow. Erin had been feather-soft. When she’d moved against him, her breasts had lightly cushioned his chest. The memory of her softness clouded his mind.

Burying his face in the pillow added fuel to his imagination, and he abruptly rolled over. He firmly shut his eyes and sighed as he started to drift off.

It didn’t work. Instead, he saw Erin’s sweet Irish face looking back at him.

Her eyes were an unusual shade of brown. Man-enticing brown, he decided. With her curly red hair and her pale, peach-smooth complexion, her eye color was something of a surprise. He’d expected blue or green, not dark brown.

Beautiful brown eyes…so readable, so clear, looking back at him, as if she were suffering from a wealth of regrets just before she’d climbed into her car.

Brand was suffering from a few regrets of his own. He hadn’t kissed her. Nor had he suggested they see each other again.

Damn his pride. He should have done something, anything, to persuade her. Now she was gone….

Sleep danced around him until he was on the verge of drifting off completely. Then his eyes snapped open, and a slow, satisfied smile turned up the edges of his mouth.

He knew exactly what he intended to do.

Erin remembered Marilyn Amundson from the first session of the Women in Transition course on Tuesday evening. The middle-aged woman with pain-dulled blue eyes and fashionably styled hair had sat at the back of the room, in the last row. Throughout most of the class, she’d kept her gaze lowered. Erin noted that the woman took copious notes as she outlined the sixteen-session course. Every now and again, the older woman would pause, dab a tissue at the corner of her eyes and visibly struggle to maintain her aplomb.

At nine, when class was dismissed, Marilyn had slowly gathered her things and hurried outside the classroom. Later Erin had seen a car stop in front of the college to pick her up.

It was Erin’s guess that Marilyn didn’t drive. It wasn’t unusual for the women who signed up for the course to have to rely on someone else for transportation.

Most of the women were making a new life for themselves. Some came devastated by divorce, others from the death of a loved one. Whatever the reason, they all shared common ground and had come to learn and help each other. When the sessions were finished, the classes continued to meet as a monthly support group.

The greatest rewards Erin had had as a social worker were from the Women in Transition course. The transformation she’d seen in the participants’ lives in the short two months she taught the class reminded her of the metamorphosis of a cocoon into a butterfly.

The first few classes were always the most difficult. The women came feeling empty inside, fearful, tormented by the thought of facing an unknown future. Many were angry, some came guilt-ridden, and there were always a few who were restless, despairing and pessimistic.

What a good portion of those who signed up for the course didn’t understand when they first arrived was how balanced life was. Whenever there was a loss, the stage was set for something to be gained. A new day was born, the night was lost. A flower blossomed, the bud was lost. In nature and in all aspects of life an advantage could be found in a loss. A balance, oftentimes not one easily explained or understood, but a symmetry nevertheless, was waiting to be discovered and explored. It was Erin’s privilege to teach these women to look for the gain.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you?”

Erin paused. “Of course. You’re Marilyn Amundson?”

“Yes.” The older woman reached for a tissue and ran it beneath her nose. Her fingers were trembling, and it was several moments before she spoke. “I can’t seem to stop crying. I sit in class and all I do is cry…. I want to apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to. I understand.”

Marilyn smiled weakly. “Some of the other women in class look so…like they’ve got it all together, while I’m a basket case. My husband…” She paused when her voice faltered. “He asked me for a divorce two weeks ago. We’ve been married over thirty years. Apparently he met someone else five or six years ago, and they’ve been seeing each other ever since…only I didn’t know.”

This was a story Erin had heard several times over, but it wouldn’t lessen Marilyn’s pain for Erin to imply that she was another statistic. What she did need to hear was that others had survived this ordeal, and so would she.

“I’d…gone out shopping. The bus stops right outside our house, and when I returned home, Richard was there. I knew right away something was wrong. Richard only rarely wears his suit. I asked him what he was doing home in the middle of the day, and all he could do was stand there and stare at me. Then…then he said he was sorry to do it this way, and he handed me the divorce papers. Just like that—without any warning. I didn’t know about the other woman…. I suppose I should have, but I…I trusted him.”

Erin’s heart twisted at the torment that echoed in the other woman’s voice. Marilyn struggled to hold back the tears, her lips quivering with the effort.

“Although this may feel like the worst moment of your life, you will survive,” Erin said gently, hugging her briefly. “I promise you that. The healing process is like everything else, there’s a beginning, a middle and an end. It feels like the whole world has caved in on you now.”

“That’s exactly the way I feel. Richard is my whole life…was my whole life. I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Have you seen an attorney?”

Marilyn shook her head. “Not yet…My pastor suggested I take this course, and find my footing, so to speak.”

“In session twelve a lawyer will visit the class. You can ask any questions you like then.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Marilyn went on, once she’d composed herself. “What you said about the balance of things, how nature and life even things out…well, it made a lot of sense to me. Few things do these days.”

Erin reached for her coat, slipping her arms into the satin-lined sleeves. She smiled, hoping the gesture would offer Marilyn some reassurance. “I’m pleased you’re finding the class helpful.”

“I don’t think I could have made it through this last week without it.” She retreated a few steps and smiled again. This time it came across stronger.

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll be here.” Buttoning up her own coat, Marilyn headed out the classroom door.

Erin watched the older woman. Her heart ached for Marilyn, but, although she was devastated and shaky now, Erin saw in her a deep inner strength. Marilyn hadn’t realized it was there, not yet. Soon she would discover it and draw upon the deep pool of courage. For now her thoughts were full of self-condemnation, self-deprecation and worry. From experience, Erin knew Marilyn would wallow in those for a while, but the time would come when she’d pick herself up by the bootstraps. Then that inner strength, the grit she saw in the other woman’s weary eyes, would come alive.

As if sensing Erin’s thoughts, Marilyn paused at the classroom door and turned back. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” Erin answered, regretfully. “Not even close, I’m afraid.”

Marilyn nodded, then squared her shoulders. “Don’t ever let it happen,” she advised gruffly, yet softly. “It hurts too damn much.”

Chapter Three

The envelope arrived at Erin’s office, hand-delivered by the downstairs receptionist. Erin stared at her name scrawled across the front and knew beyond a doubt the handwriting belonged to Brand Davis. She held the plain white envelope in her hand several moments, her heart pounding. It’d been two days since her dinner date with Brand, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. She’d been so awful, so aloof and unfriendly, when he’d been trying so hard to be cordial and helpful.

When he’d dropped her off where she’d parked her car, she’d practically leaped out of his in her eagerness to get away from him. Exactly what had he done that was so terrible? Well, first off, he’d been pleasant and fun—horrible crimes, indeed—while she’d behaved like a cantankerous old biddy. She wasn’t proud of herself; in fact, Erin felt wretched about the whole thing.

“Go ahead and open it,” she said aloud.

“You talking to yourself again?” Aimee chastised. “You generally don’t do that until the end of the day.”

“Brand sent me a note.” She held it up for her friend’s inspection as though she were holding on to a hand grenade and expected it to explode in her face at any moment.

“I thought the receptionist looked envious. He’s probably downstairs waiting for you right now.”

“Ah…” That thought didn’t bear contemplating.

“For heaven’s sake,” Aimee said eagerly, “don’t just sit there, open it.”

Erin did, with an enthusiasm she didn’t dare question. Her gaze scanned the short message before she looked up to her friend. “He wants to give me a tour of Sand Point before the opportunity is gone. You know there’s a distinct possibility the navy may close down the base. He says I should have a look at it for nostalgia’s sake.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow…You’re right, he’s downstairs waiting for my answer.”

“Are you going to do it?” Aimee’s question hung in mid-air like a dangling spider.

Erin didn’t know. Then she did know. Longing welled deep within her, not a physical longing, but an emotional stirring that left her feeling empty inside. She didn’t want to have anything to do with this lieutenant j.g., didn’t want to be trapped in the whirlpool of his strong, sensual appeal. Nevertheless, she had been from the first moment they’d kissed, despite her best efforts.

He paralyzed her; he challenged her. He was everything she claimed she didn’t want in a man, and everything she’d ever hope to find.

“Well?” Aimee probed. “What are you going to do?”

“I…I’m going to take that tour.”

Aimee let lose with a loud cheer that attracted the attention of nearly everyone in the huge open room. Several people stuck their heads out from behind office doors to discover what was causing all the excitement.

Shaking on the inside, but outwardly composed, Erin took the elevator to the ground floor. Brand was waiting in the foyer. He had his back to her and was standing in front of the directory. He wore his dress uniform, and his hands were joined behind his back, holding his garrison cap.

He must have sensed her presence, because he turned around.

“Hello,” she said, her heart as heavy as the humid air of the rainy Seattle morning.

“Hi,” he responded, his own voice low and throaty.

She dropped her gaze, unexpectedly nervous. “I got your note.”

“You look surprised to hear from me.”

“After the way I behaved the other night, I didn’t expect to…I can’t understand why you want anything to do with me.”

“You weren’t so bad.” His lazy grin took a long time coming, but when it did it contradicted every word he’d spoken.

She found his smile infectious and doubted any woman could resist this man when he put his mind to it—and his mind was definitely to it!

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“And if I said I wasn’t?” She answered him with a question of her own, thinking that was safer than admitting how pleased she was to see him.

“I’d ask you out again later.”

“Why?” Erin couldn’t understand why he’d continue to risk rejection from her. Especially when she was quite ordinary. Erin wasn’t selling herself short. She was a warm, generous person, but she hadn’t been with him. Yet he’d returned twice now, enduring her disdain, and she had yet to understand why.

Gradually she raised her eyes to his. And what she viewed confused her even more. Brand was thinking and feeling the same things she was, the same bewilderment, the same confusion. The same everything.

The smile faded, and his face tightened slightly, as if this were a question he’d often asked himself. “Why do I keep coming back?” He leveled his gaze on her. “I wish the hell I knew. Will you come to Sand Point tomorrow?”

Erin nodded, then emphasized her response by saying, “Yes. At ten?”

“Perfect.” Then he added with a slight smile, “There’ll be a pass waiting for you at the gate.”

“Good,” she said, taking a step back, feeling nervous and not knowing how to explain it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until Erin was inside the elevator, a smile trembling on her lips, that she remembered Marilyn’s parting words from the night before.

Don’t ever fall in love, Marilyn had warned her, it hurts too damn much. Erin felt somewhat comforted to realize she was a long way from falling in love with Brand Davis. But she would definitely have to be careful.

“Well, is it the way you remembered?” Brand asked after a two-hour tour of Naval Station Puget Sound at Sand Point. He’d given her a history lesson, too. Sand Point had originally been acquired by King County back in 1920 as an airport and later leased to the navy as a reserve. Brand had explained that only a few hundred men were based there now, support personnel for the base at Everett. Brand was assigned to the admiral’s staff—SINCPAC, out of Hawaii—and sent to do an independent study in preparation for the possible closure of the base.

Erin had been on the base itself only a handful of times as a child. It amazed her how familiar the base felt to her, even though it had been sixteen years since she’d moved away from the area.

“It hasn’t changed all that much over the years.”

“That surprises you?”

“Not really.” What did catch her unawares was the feeling of homecoming. There had never been one single base her family had been assigned to through the years that gave Erin this sort of abstract feeling of home. From the time she could remember, her life had belonged to the navy. Her father would receive shipping orders, and without a pause her family would pack up everything they owned and head wherever her father’s commanding officer decreed. Erin had hated it with a fierceness that went beyond description. Nothing was ever her own, there was no sense of permanency in her life, no sense of security. What she had one day—her friends, her school, her neighbors—could be taken from her the next.

Brand’s fingers reached for hers and squeezed tightly. “You look sad.”

“I do?” She forced a note of cheerfulness into her voice, needing to define her feelings. Brand had brought her here. For the first time since she’d left her family, she’d returned to a navy base. She’d agreed to Brand’s suggestion of a tour with flippant disregard for any emotions she might experience.

The wounds of her youth, although she knew she was being somewhat melodramatic to refer to them that way, had been properly bandaged with time. She’d set the course of her life and hadn’t looked back since. Then, out of the blue, Brand Davis had popped in, determined, it seemed, to untie the compress so carefully wrapped around her heart.

As she stood outside the Sand Point grounds, she could almost feel the bandages slackening. Her first instinct was to tug them back into place, but she couldn’t do that with the memories. Happy memories, carefree memories, came at her from every angle. The longer she stood there, the longer she soaked in the feelings, the more likely the bandage was to drop to her feet. Erin couldn’t allow that to happen.

“I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed living in Seattle,” she whispered, barely aware she was speaking.

“Where were you stationed afterward?”

Erin had to think about it. “Guam, as I recall…. No, we went to Alaska first.”

“You hated it there?”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my favorite place in the world, but it was tolerable…. We weren’t there long.” The sun actually did shine at midnight, and the mosquito was teasingly referred to as the Alaska state bird. Actually, Erin had loved Alaska, but they’d been there such a short while.

“How long?”

“Four months, I’d guess. There was some screwup, and almost overnight we were given orders and shipped to Guam. Now that was one place I really did enjoy.”

“Did you ever take picnics on Guam?”

Erin had to think that one over, and she couldn’t actually remember one way or the other. “I suppose we did.”

“And how did you enjoy those?”

Erin glanced in Brand’s direction and studied him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I have the funny feeling this is a leading question?”

“Because it is.” Brand grinned at her, and the sun broke through whatever clouds there were that day. “I packed us a lunch, and I was hoping to persuade you to go on a picnic with me.”

“Where?” Not that it mattered. The question was a delaying tactic to give her time to sort through her scattered feelings. A tour of Sand Point was one thing, but lying down on the grass feeding each other grapes was another.

“Anywhere you want.”

“Ah?” Her mind scurried as she tried to come up with the names of parks, but for the life of her Erin couldn’t remove the picture of Brand pressing a grape to her lips and then bending over to kiss her and share the juicy flavor.

“Erin?”

“How about Woodland Park? If you haven’t visited the zoo, you should. Seattle has one of the country’s best.” That way she could feed the animals and take her mind off Brand. The choice was a good one for another reason, as well. Woodland Park was sure to be crowded on a day as bright and sunny as this one.

Erin was right. They were fortunate to find parking. Brand frowned as he glanced around them, and she could almost hear his thoughts. He’d been hoping she’d lead him to a secluded hideaway, and she’d greatly disappointed him. He might as well become accustomed to it. Erin had agreed to see him again, but she absolutely refused to become romantically involved.

“Just who do you think you’re kidding?” she muttered under her breath. Her stomach had been tied up in knots for the last hour while she’d replayed over and over again in her mind this ridiculous scene about them sharing grapes. For all she knew, he might have brought along apples, or oranges, or omitted fruit altogether.

“You said something?” Brand asked, giving her an odd look.

“No…”

“I thought you did.”

She was going to have to examine this need to talk out loud to herself. As far as she could see, the best tactic was to change the subject. “I’m starved.”

“Me too.” But when he glanced her way, his gaze rested squarely on her mouth, as if to say he was eager to eat all right, but his need wasn’t for food.

Her beautiful Irish eyes were moody, Brand decided. Moody and guarded. Brand didn’t know what he’d done—or hadn’t done—that disturbed Erin so much. From the moment they’d driven away from the naval station, he’d toyed with the idea of asking her what was wrong. He hadn’t, simply because he knew she’d deny that anything was troubling her.

Brand wasn’t pleased with her choice of parks for their picnic. The zoo was a place for family and kids. He’d be lucky if they found five minutes alone together. But then, that was exactly the reason Erin had chosen it.

Brand, on the other hand, wanted seclusion and privacy. He wanted to kiss Erin again. Hell, he needed to kiss Erin again. The thought had dominated his mind for days. She was so incredibly soft and sweet. He swore he’d never kissed another woman who tasted of honey the way she did. The sample she’d given him hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy his need. For days he’d been telling himself he’d blown the kiss up in his mind, way out of proportion. Nothing could have been that good.

“Anyplace around here will do,” she said.

He followed her into the park, his gaze scanning the rolling green landscape and falling on a large pond. The space under the trees near the shore looked the most promising. He suggested there.

“Sure,” she responded, but she sounded uncertain.

Brand smoothed out the gray navy-issue blanket on the lawn and set the wicker basket in the center of it.

“If you’d said something earlier, I would have baked brownies,” Erin said, striving, Brand thought, to sound conversational.

“You can next time.” The implication was there, as blatant as he could make it. He would be seeing her again. Often. As frequently as their schedules allowed. He planned on it, and he wanted her to do the same.

“What did you pack for us?” Her voice sounded hollow, as if it were coming from an abandoned well.

“Nothing all that fabulous.” Kneeling on the blanket, he opened the basket and set out sandwiches, a couple of cans of cold pop, potato chips and two oranges.

Erin’s gaze rested on the oranges for the longest moment. They were the large Florida variety, juicy, she suspected, and sweet.

“Do you want the turkey on white or the corned beef on whole wheat?”

“The turkey,” she answered.

Next Brand opened the chips and handed her the bag. She grabbed a handful and set them on top of a napkin. For all her claims about being famished, Brand noted, she barely touched her food.

He sat, leaning his back against the base of the tree, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “You’re looking thoughtful.”

Her responding smile was weak. “I…I was just thinking about something one of the women in my class told me.”

“What was that?”

Her head came up, and her gaze collided with his. “Ah…it’s difficult to explain.”

“This class means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Erin nodded. “One of the women has been on my mind the last couple of days. She hasn’t centered herself yet, and—”

“Centered herself?”

“It’s a counseling term. Basically, what it means is that she hasn’t come to grips with who and what she is and needs to brace herself for whatever comes her way. Right now she’s suffering from shock and emotional pain, and the smallest problem overpowers her. Frankly, I’m worried.”

“Tell me about her.” Brand held out his arm, wanting Erin to scoot close and rest her head on his chest. He’d been looking for a subtle, natural way of doing so without putting Erin on red alert.

He was almost surprised when she did move toward him. She didn’t exactly cuddle up in his arms, but she braced her back against his chest and stretched her legs out in front of her. His arm reached across her shoulder blades.

“She’s taking my class because after thirty-odd years of marriage her husband is leaving her. From what I understand there’s another woman involved.”

“I didn’t know people would divorce after staying married for so many years. Frankly, it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“It happens,” Erin explained softly, “more than you’d guess.”

“Go on, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Tell me about…”

“I’ll call her Margo. That isn’t her name, of course.”

Brand nodded. It felt so good to have Erin in his arms. He’d been fantasizing about it for days. The hold wasn’t as intimate as he would have liked, but with this sweet Irish miss he’d need to go slowly.

“She’s in her early fifties and never worked outside the home. All she knows how to be is a homemaker and a wife. I’d venture to guess that she’s never written a check. I know for a fact she doesn’t drive. At a time in her life when she was looking forward to retirement, she needs to find a career and make a home for herself.”

“What about children? Surely, they’d stick by their mother at a time like this.”

“Two daughters. They’re both married and live outside the state. From what I can remember, one lives in California and the other someplace in Texas. Margo’s completely alone, probably for the first time in her life.”