PETE COULDN’T CURB HIS worry about Cali and her injuries. He’d just taken care of the Taliban prisoners and had driven back to the medical trailer to check on her. The nursing assistant told him that the doctor had seen Cali, and she was at her own trailer, resting for the next twenty-four hours.
The day was hot and he was sweating profusely. As he drove down a two-lane dirt road toward the western side of the complex, he noted dust was everywhere, despite the water trucks on duty. The trailers in this section were used as homes for the main construction people. The units had been spaced far enough apart so no mortar round or grenade launcher could hit more than one at a time. Being bunched together wasn’t a good idea in a war zone. And this was turning out to be a constant battlefield.
Pete knew by heart where Cali’s trailer was located. It was a standard terra-cotta color, like all the rest. In the window nearest the door, however, a large, healthy potted plant was hung. As he pulled up and turned off the ignition, he noticed that the plant had bloomed. The blossom looked like a pink hibiscus—a touch of beauty in the desert. Just like Cali.
How was she? He wondered if he should stop by to see her or just leave her alone. Pete didn’t want to keep second-guessing himself, so he climbed out of the truck and locked it. If she were a man, he wouldn’t hesitate to visit, make sure she was okay. He took the wooden steps two at a time, then knocked on the white aluminum door. Maybe Cali was asleep. Maybe he should have called her first. His heart roiled in his chest, and he wiped sweat off his face with his shirtsleeve.
The door opened and his heart picked up in beat. Cali was dressed in pink linen trousers and a dark green, formfitting top. Her left arm was wrapped in white gauze and tape. Pete saw the darkness in her eyes and figured she had to be hurting. The warmth in her gaze, however, quieted his anxiety.
“Come on in. I was just going to pour myself a well-deserved shot of whiskey to settle my nerves. Not exactly doctor’s orders, but I know it will help.” Cali grimaced as she stepped aside so he could enter. “I’m getting the shakes now. Adrenaline letdown.”
“Pour me one, too?” Pete asked, turning and shutting the door. At once the delicious coolness of air-conditioning enveloped Pete. He took off his cap and stuffed it into his back pocket, grinning tentatively. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Cali tried to keep her tone light as she went to the kitchen and fetched the liquor from beneath the sink. Her hand trembled slightly while she poured the amber liquid into two shot glasses. “I’m just shook up right now. I guess I didn’t think the Taliban were so bold or stupid to try and attack us like that. I know they’ve been aggressive, but never like this. And am I ever sorry I didn’t have that security pickup with me today. It’s the last time that will happen.” She reached for one glass, turned and handed it to Pete. Their fingers touched and Cali tried to ignore the resulting tingle. Impossible.
Pete nodded in thanks. “This is a new type of attack,” he agreed wearily.
Cali lifted her glass in a toast and quickly downed the contents. “Let’s drink to life.” The liquid burned like fire in her throat and gut. She set the glass aside and walked to the couch, tucking one leg beneath her as she sat down.
Pete downed his own whiskey and set the empty glass on the counter. His lips drew away from his teeth as he sucked in air, trying to reduce the fiery sensation of the liquor.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, gesturing to the leather sofa. Cali looked so fragile and he ached to take her into his arms. Dammit, he couldn’t protect her, and that realization was a brutal one. Nor could he show his emotions as he had out there at the accident scene. And yet there wasn’t a thing he would have done differently.
“Sure, sit down.” Cali was surprised that he wanted to stay, but her head hurt too much to think about it. This wasn’t the time to explore her feelings for him.
Pete joined her, settling a few feet from where she sat. He wanted to move closer, but that wouldn’t be right. He planted his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together. “I just wanted to tell you about the conversation I had with Hesam earlier. This is an entirely new style of attack. The sheik said the Taliban were pretty quiet in his province until we came. It’s one thing for them to lob rocket-propelled grenades into our site at night, but quite another to attack you in a truck along the perimeter road in daylight.”
Cali leaned back, feeling the effects of the alcohol soothing her jittery nervous system. “They were out to get anyone who was there. I’m sure they didn’t know who was in the truck,” she said. Pete’s closeness helped. Right now, she wanted him around, and somehow, he must have sensed it. Or maybe he was just making a house call because he was superintendent at the site? Cali wasn’t sure, and really didn’t want an answer to that question.
“I’m not certain I agree. They were after a high-value target. Why else would they risk a daylight attack against our security?”
“I don’t know.” Cali was afraid to think they might have purposely targeted her.
Shaking his head, Pete studied his callused hands and the many small scars on his fingers. “How are you doing now?” He glanced up and held her gaze.
“I’ll live. The doc gave me a tetanus shot, antibiotics to take and—” she pointed to her bandaged arm “—he picked fifteen shards of windshield glass out of my arm. And found three more pieces here,” she said, gesturing to her neck.
“Thank God you didn’t get any in the face. If one of those splinters had hit you in the eyes…” Pete’s voice trailed off at the horror of that possibility. He tore his gaze from hers and frowned down at his fisted hands. You have the most beautiful eyes in the world. I could lose myself in them…. He wanted to tell her. But he didn’t dare whisper those words. This close call had brought feelings to the surface he’d not been aware of before.
“I got lucky and I know it,” Cali agreed softly. “I wonder if they’d have attacked if security had been with me? Were they waiting to catch someone out on the perimeter without a guard, or was it just the luck of the draw?”
“Security will interrogate the prisoners. We’ll know more soon. I don’t like what happened, Cali.” Pete didn’t care if she objected to his use of her first name. Somehow, he couldn’t call her “Ms. Roland” now.
“I’d like some answers myself.” She could tell Pete was wrestling with a lot of emotions just by looking at his chiseled, bronzed face. His straight black hair was closely cropped, a few errant strands dipping rebelliously over his furrowed brow. He was intensely handsome, and Cali felt a delicious sense of desire for him as she absorbed his strong profile. What was there not to like about this guy?
Plenty, her head told her. Think about Russ. Think about what he did to you.
“From now on, Cali, you will have security with you. If the truck breaks down, you’ll wait until it’s fixed before you leave the site. Have you ever been shot at on other projects?” Pete asked.
He saw her lips part. Lips he so badly wanted to taste, touch and make his own. Obviously, he couldn’t act on his desire.
Shaking her head, Cali said, “No. First time. Oh, I’ve been in a lot of dire straits on other job sites. Even had a gun aimed at my chest by a pissed-off sheik. But we managed to calm things down, and cooler heads prevailed.” Cali smiled, feeling her tension beginning to dissolve. “If I’d been thinking, I’d have just pulled out my pistol today and started shooting back instead of running from them.”
Pete straightened in alarm. “No, Cali, you did the right thing. It was five of them against one of you. Besides, hindsight is always twenty-twenty.” His terror over what had happened—what could have happened—made his gut feel as if it were burning. “You can’t outgun these bastards.”
“I didn’t know who they were. At first I thought they were some of our people, driving too fast on that friggin’ road. I swear, I’m going to find some extra gravel and get a dump truck out there and fill those ruts. They are just too dangerous for anyone to drive on, never mind the damage they cause our trucks, which are not in endless supply out here.”
Hearing the grimness in her tone, Pete said, “We have to get some culverts across that road before we put gravel on it. We need to drain off the rainwater.” He’d have to eyeball his budget to find extra money for the tons of gravel and pipes. Expenditures like this often popped up on a construction site. Still, his budget was tight and he had to be careful where he spent any cash. He had approval to do some drainage projects in town. He’d take some of that material, and pour open concrete channels there instead. Kerwin Elliot and his bean counters back in Kabul made him go over the budget every two weeks. Pete didn’t give a damn what this would mean. Cali had nearly been killed, and was lucky even though her truck had flipped over.
“I’m feeling better now, Pete—I mean, Major.” Cali’s eyes were growing heavy. “I think the whiskey helped.”
“I don’t mind if you call me Pete,” he said in a gruff tone.
Cali had closed her eyes momentarily. Her hair was mussed, red strands burnished with gold highlights. Her pixie-style haircut was perfect for someone who wore a hard hat all day long. She didn’t need a fancy hairdo to look beautiful to him. No, she was a natural product of the earth, and Pete liked that about her. She never wore perfume or makeup. Lip balm, yes, because the desert air was brutal. And lip balm simply enhanced those elegant, soft lips of hers that he wanted so badly to kiss.
Cali sighed and opened her eyes. “Thanks, I will. You can call me Cali if you want, too.” The man had ust saved her life. She couldn’t continue to be so standoffish under the circumstances. Through her lashes, she studied his strong face. There was something so clean and powerful about Pete Trayhern. Her defenses were weak, so she let herself study his features.
“Listen, can I call anyone for you? I’m sure your parents might like to know what happened and that you’re okay.”
She winced. Not only was she dizzy and tired, but she couldn’t avoid the issue. Yes, her parents should be contacted. “If you could just call my dad…”
“Are you sure about not contacting anyone else? I know you said there was no one special in your life….”
“There’s no guy you have to call.” It hurt to say the words, and she saw Pete frown. Uncertain what emotion flitted briefly across his face, she said, “Look, my past with men is awful and I’m tired of getting hurt all the time.” Cali shrugged and touched the center of her chest, above her heart. “I seem to pick the wrong guy every time. Neanderthals in disguise are what I call them. They pretend to want to see me as strong, confident, a leader in my own right, but after a while, their mask falls away and they try to control me. I won’t put up with that anymore. I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve been around the block one too many times.” There, the truth was out. Or as much as she was going to say about it. Russ had been the worst of all of them.
Pete rubbed his hands against his thighs and sat up. “I see.” It was all he could think to say. He wanted to comfort her, but knew they had to keep some distance. Instead of reaching for her, he leaned back on the couch.
“It’s not something I’m proud of,” Cali told him, touching her aching head briefly.
“I’ve already told you I don’t have a sterling record with women, either.” Somehow, Pete wanted her to feel better about her honest admission. He could see suffering in Cali’s eyes, along with real pain.
“The women who lied to you?”
“That’s right. My parents taught all their kids about the honor of telling the truth. I just can’t figure out how I always draw women who don’t.”
Cali felt for Pete and heard the rawness in his tone. “Maybe the right woman just hasn’t come along yet,” she said softly.
“I’ve sort of given up,” Pete admitted guardedly. Why was he telling her what lay in his heart of hearts? The words just tumbled out, unbidden. Uncontrolled. What kind of power and influence did she wield over him? Pete felt almost naked in front of her.
“I told my dad last year that there wasn’t a man on this earth that could reach the bar I’m insisting on.”
“And what did he say?”
“Well, you have to put this into the context of his marriage, Pete. My dad fell in love with my mother on a construction site. I guess they fought like cats and dogs. They tamed each other, he said.” Cali gave a careful one-shoulder shrug. “They’re going on thirty-five years of marriage now. They still love each other. That’s amazing to me.”
“Yeah, throwaway marriages are a dime a dozen nowadays,” Pete said unhappily. “People cohabit and they don’t even think of weddings anymore. My own parents married around age thirty. My mother said that she’d been hit by a car at the Reagan Airport in Washington, D.C. The accident blinded her. My dad rescued her, stayed with her and took care of her until she regained her sight.”
“Wow,” Cali murmured, “that’s a helluva story.”
Pete felt infinitely better discussing his family instead of himself. And he sensed Cali needed someone to talk to after her near brush with death. That was understandable. He’d had many such experiences with his Marines after they engaged the enemy and needed “let down” time afterward. As an assistant company commander, he was used to listening to his officers and people. Sometimes just listening provided a monumental healing for a soldier who had survived combat. “Over time my parents just gravitated to one another. My mother finally got her sight back, and she told me, when she saw my father for the first time, she fell in love with him even more than before.”
“So, what’s wrong with us, then? Why can’t we find a love like that?” Cali looked unhappily around the trailer. Outside, she could hear the throaty rumble of bulldozers at work, the deeper growl of earthmovers. All of it was somehow calming and reassuring to her.
“I don’t know, Cali. I’ve fallen in and out of relationships so many times I just can’t take it anymore.” Staring down at his scarred hands, Pete added, “My parents have a relationship based on mutual admiration and respect.”
“Like my folks,” Cali agreed. “It’s a generational thing, maybe. I mean, look at our contemporaries. We can’t keep a relationship going for three months, much less thirty years!”
“What does that say about us?” Pete mused, more to himself than her. It was so easy to talk with Cali. “What’s in us that we can’t make a relationship work? Are we so narcissistic and into ourselves that we lack the selflessness it takes to make a relationship fly? Are we so scared of making a commitment that, at the least hint of one, we find something wrong with the person we’re with and force them to leave?”
“Or,” Cali added thoughtfully, “are we trying to live up to an impossible standard our parents set for us? Maybe we lack the grit and heart that real love demands from both people to make it work.”
“If I had those answers, I wouldn’t be where I am.” That was the truth, and Pete didn’t like admitting it.
“So,” Cali wondered out loud, “do we demand such perfection of our partner that they’ll never reach that bar?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “I know I look at every woman I date and compare her to my mother, to my parents’ relationship.”
“So do I, with men,” Cali said. “Probably a fatal mistake. I know better. All people are different.”
“Are we aiming too high, then?” Pete asked her. Cali’s face was less tense now, he noticed with relief.
“Maybe we are as unable to forgive our imperfect partner as we are unable to forgive ourselves for our daily mistakes.”
“You might be on to something.”
Cali was hungry for personal conversation with Pete. Maybe because of the combination of whiskey and being in shock, she felt brave enough to ask him deeply personal questions. “So, what are some of your warts?”
Pete felt his guard go up. He’d wanted to be a good listener for Cali, but now he wasn’t sure what to say. “Oh, no, you first. You brought up this topic.”
“Chicken heart.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Men. You want to be seen as so tough and capable, and yet you’re like melted butter in a skillet about some things. I’ve watched your face change when one of the Afghan workmen brought his baby son for you to meet, Pete. What is it about men showing their soft underbelly? What stops you from being just as vulnerable and open as women are?”
“Social training, maybe?” he suggested. “Is that what you look for in a man? Vulnerability?”
Cali sat up and uncurled her legs. “I want to be able to express, share and feel every emotion with the man in my life. He doesn’t have to cry, but he can. I want him to be in touch with his emotions, and more importantly, I want him unafraid to share them all with me—the good, the bad and the ugly. I don’t think that’s asking too much, do you?” Cali gave him a scrutinizing look.
“No, but it’s asking a lot. Most men can’t do that, Cali.” Pete shifted uncomfortably. This was the first time they’d had a personal conversation, and it mattered to him more than he wanted to admit.
“Can’t or won’t? From where I stand, it’s a social conditioning process that definitely needs to be thrown away,” Cali said, frustration in her voice. “Men can feel just as deeply as any woman. You can’t tell me you don’t. But if a man can’t share his feelings with the woman he loves, then there’s a loss of intimacy. And if a man can’t be intimate with his partner, what’s the use of getting serious?”
Pete felt compelled to move the conversation to safer ground. “My parents have that kind of intimacy. So I know it’s possible.”
Cali pressed her palm to her brow for a moment as a wave of dizziness came and went. “You’re right, Pete. I watched my parents growing up, and they were always intimate with one another. They would sit down every night at the dinner table and talk about their day, problems, triumphs and failures. I had good training on what it takes to keep a marriage together. And so far, I haven’t found one man on the planet who has the guts to just be an ordinary human being who feels things and can share them with me.” Russ had pretended to be that way, but she didn’t want to reveal this debacle with Pete just yet. The radio on his belt squawked suddenly, and if Cali didn’t know better, she would think he looked relieved.
He straightened and answered the call. Hesam had arrived, and questioning of the Taliban prisoners would begin. Pete had to get back to the security trailer pronto.
“You heard the call.” He rose, tucking the radio back into his belt. Truth be known, he was glad to be leaving. The spell between them was broken, and Pete was thankful in one way. In another, his lonely heart had absorbed this quiet, honest moment, possibly more than he liked.
“Keep me in the loop on this. And would you call my dad?”
“That’s a promise. I’ll call him first and then go to the security trailer, where Hesam is waiting.” Glancing down, Pete studied her hands, which were almost as callused and scarred as his. Cali earned her living by being one with the earth, just as he did. He wanted to reach down, squeeze her fingers reassuringly and make her feel better. He couldn’t do that, but his heart accelerated with sudden, unexpected joy. Pete felt incredibly light, as if he were lifted on invisible wings. The look in Cali’s eyes, however, was solemn and dark. She was a pensive, intelligent woman who dug into the enigmatic corners of herself and others. That scared him. And that was good, he told himself. Cali expected too much of a man. Based on what she’d said, he certainly couldn’t fill her needs. Pete should have felt relief over that, but he didn’t.
“Tell my dad that after I have a nap, I’ll call him,” Cali said. The sudden, crazy desire she felt to stand up and step into Pete’s arms surprised her. The part of her that apparently hadn’t learned the lessons Russ had taught her wanted to throw herself into Pete’s embrace, kiss him until they melted together in a scalding pool of desire.
It had to be the whiskey and the adrenaline, Cali told herself. Right now, she felt weak and almost out of control. She’d never had two close brushes with death and wasn’t sure how to cope with them.
“I’ll reassure him you’re okay,” Pete murmured. He pulled the cap from his back pocket and settled it on his head. If he didn’t leave, he’d be treading on dangerous ground—a big mistake. Patting the radio, he said, “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t need anything.” Cali was lying, but that was okay. “I think I’ll lie down for a while.”
“It’s a good thing to do, after shock,” he agreed softly. “I’ll let you know what we find out from the prisoners.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
Cali watched as he walked toward the door. Pete’s shoulders were incredibly broad. And he carried many responsibilities on them with the ease of a born leader. She knew men who could never handle what Pete did here at the site. He was a damn good manager and the Afghan workmen truly respected him. Even liked him, which was unusual. Heart glowing, she fought the feelings. Right now, she was exhausted. And her boundaries with Major Trayhern were at an all-time low. Somehow, Cali knew she had to repair them and get some distance. She’d never expected him to rescue her, much less hold her. And the walls she’d erected against him had dissolved like putty when he’d unexpectedly embraced her out there. Confused and in pain, Cali was glad to see him leave. She had to have time to heal herself emotionally to remain immune to Pete Trayhern.