Chapter Seven

Catherine felt like an idiot, phoning Royce in the middle of the night. She didn’t know what had prompted her to do anything so foolish, nor did she know what she intended to say once he picked up the receiver. As soon as he answered, she realized her folly and was about to disconnect the line when he called her name.

“H-how’d you know it was me?” She pushed the hair off her forehead and drew in soft, catching gasps in an effort to stop the flow of tears that refused to cease.

“It was a good guess,” Royce admitted gently. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

If only he’d been outraged, instead of caring. She might have been able to avoid telling him, but she needed him so desperately—as desperately as she’d ever needed anyone. “I’m fine, really I am,” she lied. “It’s just that I’m a little out of sorts and…” She couldn’t admit to him she hadn’t wept, really down-and-out wept in years, and once the tears had started, it was like a dam bursting over a restraining wall. Nothing she tried to do helped.

“Catherine, love, it’s two-thirty in the morning. You wouldn’t have phoned if everything was peachy keen.”

She swallowed a sob and knew the noise she made sounded as though she were drowning, going underwater for the third and last time. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She gnawed on the corner of her lip and ran a tissue under her nose. “For calling me your love. I…need that right now.” She was convinced he had no idea he’d used the affectionate term.

He hesitated, then gently pried again. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Catherine sat curled up on her sofa, her feet tucked beneath her. The pages of her mother’s letter were scattered across the top of her coffee table. She’d moved the picture of her father down from the mantel and set it in front of her as well. For part of the night she’d held it to her breast and rocked to and fro in a frantic effort to hold on to him. The area around her was strewn with used tissues.

“Catherine,” Royce repeated. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I shouldn’t have phoned. I’m sorry…I was going to hang up, but then you said my name.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“Royce, no…please don’t.” She couldn’t deal with him, not now. In addition, her apartment complex was full of Navy personnel. If anyone were to see Royce coming in or out of her apartment in the early hours of the morning, it could be disastrous.

“Then tell me what’s troubling you.”

Catherine reached for another tissue. “I got a letter from my mother…” she sobbed. A fresh batch of hot tears coursed down her face, streaking it with glistening trails of pain. Even now, hours after reading the letter, her mother’s news had the power to wrench her heart. “You’re going to think I’m so stupid to be this upset.”

“I won’t think anything of the sort.”

“She’s getting married. I don’t expect you to understand…how can you when I don’t understand myself…but it’s like she’s turning her back on my father after all these years. She loved him so much. She deserves to be happy but I can’t help thinking…there’ll be no one to remember…my dad.”

“Just because your mother’s marrying doesn’t mean she’s forgetting your father.”

“I’ve been telling myself that all night, but it just doesn’t seem to sink into my heart. I’m happy…for h-her.” Catherine sobbed so hard her shoulders shook. “I’m really p-pleased. She’s been dating Norman for ten years. It isn’t that this is any surprise…I don’t even know why I’m crying, but now I can’t seem to stop. I feel like such a fool…I’m sorry I woke you. Please go back to sleep and forget I—”

“No,” he whispered softly. “There’s an old road off Byron Way. Just head north and you can’t miss it. I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

“Royce…” She meant to tell him to forget everything, that she was overreacting, behaving like an insecure child. Instead she found herself asking, “What about Kelly?”

“I’ll have a friend come over. If he can’t, I’ll bring her along. Don’t worry.” The buzzing noise told her he’d hung up the receiver.

She shouldn’t meet him. Catherine told herself that at least a dozen times as she drove down Byron Way. It wasn’t fair to Royce to drag him out of bed in the middle of the night to an obscure road just because she couldn’t deal with the fact her mother was marrying Norman. Dear, sweet Norman, who’d loved her mother for years and years, who’d patiently waited for her to love him enough to let go of the past.

Catherine managed to hold back the emotion while she struggled to find the road Royce had mentioned, but she felt as unstable as a hundred-year-old prairie farmhouse in a tornado. The first gust of wind and she’d collapse.

Royce was standing outside his car, waiting for her. The moonlight reflected off the hood, illuminating his face, which was creased with anxiety.

Catherine pulled off to the side of the road and turned off her engine. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her she looked like hell warmed over, as her mother so often teased. Her eyes were red and swollen, and heaven only knew which direction her hair was pointing.

None of that seemed to matter when Royce walked over to her. He stared down on her as if she were a beauty queen, as if she were the most attractive woman in the world. His world. His eyes wandered over her face, and he raised his hand and caressed her cheek with his fingers.

If he hadn’t been so gentle she might have been able to pull it off. She might have been able to convince him she was fine, thank him for his concern and then blithely drive away, no worse for wear. Royce destroyed her plans with his tenderness. He demolished her thin facade with a single look. Tears welled in her eyes, and she placed the tips of her fingers over her mouth in an effort to hold back the wails of grief and anguish that she had yet to fathom.

Royce reached for her then, pulling her into his arms. She went sobbing, banding her arms around his waist. She buried her face in his chest, not wanting him to know how hard she was weeping.

He led her to his Porsche and helped her inside, then joined her, taking her once more into the sanctuary of his arms. Again and again, he stroked the back of her head, again and again he whispered soothing words she couldn’t hear over the sound of her own weeping. Again and again, he brushed his chin over the top of her head.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Go ahead and cry.”

“I…can’t seem to stop. Oh, Royce, I don’t understand why I feel like this. I’m…I’m so afraid everyone is going to forget him. And it would be so unfair.”

“You aren’t going to forget.”

“Don’t you see?” she sobbed even harder. “I don’t remember anything about him.” Her throat was so thick she couldn’t speak for several moments. “I was so young when he went away. Mom tried to help me remember. She told me story after story about all the things we used to do together and how much he loved us. As hard as I try I can’t remember a single detail. Nothing.”

“But he’s alive here,” Royce said gently, pressing a hand over her heart, “and that’s all that matters.”

Catherine wished it were that easy. But her emotions were far more complicated, as complicated as her love for Royce. Being in his arms, drinking in his strength and his comfort, helped to abate the tears.

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, craving the healing balm of his love. “Just once and then…I promise I won’t bother you again. I’ll leave, and you can go back home.”

He didn’t hesitate. His hands were in her hair, his splayed fingers buried deep, angling her head so that his mouth could sweep down to capture hers the way a circling hawk comes after its prey.

Catherine sighed in appreciation, opening to him. Royce groaned, thrusting his tongue deep into the moist warmth of her mouth. She sighed anew and welcomed the spirals of heat that coiled in her stomach. Her hands gripped his shirt, holding on to him, needing the anchor of his love now more than ever before. The emotion that had been playing havoc with her senses all evening burst wide open and spilled over her like warm, melting honey.

Catherine whimpered.

Royce moaned softly, seeming to experience the same wonder. His hands roved over her back, dragging her forward until their hearts were pressed against each other’s, each pounding out a chaotic rhythm of love and need.

When her breasts made contact with his chest, Catherine experienced a sensual hunger she had never known, a need that went beyond the physical. It was as if she were emotionally starved, as if the bleakness of her existence had been laid bare.

Royce’s lips claimed hers a second time with an urgency that took her by surprise, his kiss of fierce possession, a deepening urgency, a ferocious hunger neither would be able to tolerate for long.

Royce must have sensed it, too, because he abruptly broke away, his chest heaving with the effort. Catherine longed to protest, but he raised his hand to her face and gently pressed his palm against her heated cheek. Her fingers covered his, and she closed her eyes, savoring this closeness.

When she looked up at him, she found him staring at her. Her eyes didn’t waver from his. With unhurried ease, he bent forward and kissed her again, only this time his kiss was slow and tender, as slow and tender as the one before had been untamed and harsh.

“I want to taste you.” The heat in his eyes and in his words caused her to shiver. His hands expertly parted her blouse, and when he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra, his eyes narrowed into blue slits. His hands cupped her breasts and lifted them until they’d formed perfect rounds in his palms. Her nipples had tightened even before he began stroking them with his thumbs. Catherine went still, afraid even to breathe, her eyes half-closed as she dealt with the intense pleasure his hands brought her. His mouth followed, and she rolled her head back and moaned even before his mouth closed over her nipple. With her eyes slammed shut, she arched her back. The impact was so keen, so intense, she longed to cry out.

All too soon his mouth returned to hers and she opened to him, greedily accepting what he was offering. Her hands slid along the curve of his back and up to the thickness of his mussed hair.

Royce’s kisses were sweet and warm. Sweet and gentle; too gentle. He broke away completely and rubbed his face against the side of her jaw with a moist foray of nibbling kisses, working his way down her neckline.

“I want to make love to you,” he whispered, then quickly amended. “I need to make love to you, but damn it all, Catherine, I refuse to do it in the front seat of a car.”

With eyes still closed and her heart thundering like a Nebraska storm, she grinned. “Any bed will do.”

“You’re making this difficult.”

“Has it ever been easy for us?”

“No,” he growled, his hands continuing to caress her breasts. “You make me feel seventeen all over again.”

“It’s the car, trust me.”

“Maybe.” He shifted his weight and groaned, the sound rich and masculine. “I just hope the seamstress who sewed these pants took her job seriously.”

Involuntarily, Catherine’s gaze dropped to the bulge in his loins. Against her better judgment she trailed her knuckles over it, feeling the heat even through the thickness of his jeans.

The temptation was so powerful that she had to force herself to look away. She sighed, her shoulders lifted several inches with the effort.

Wrapping his arms around her, Royce pulled her toward him, until her back was cushioned by his chest. He leaned forward and slowly rotated his cheek over hers, nuzzling her ear with his nose. “Tell me about your mother.”

Catherine grinned, content for the first time since the mail had arrived. “You’d like her. She’s wonderfully witty and intelligent. To look at her, you’d never guess she’s in her early fifties, almost everyone assumes she’s at least ten years younger. The best part is that she’s strikingly attractive and doesn’t realize it. For the past fifteen years she’s lived in San Francisco, and works at the corporate headquarters for this huge importing business. That’s where she met Norman. He’s a widower, and I swear he fell in love with Mom the minute they met. He’s waited ten years for this day, and as much as I love my father, I can’t begrudge Mom and Norman any happiness.”

“It sounds like mother and daughter are a good deal alike.” Royce murmured.

Catherine had to think on that a moment. “Yes, I suppose that’s true…I just never thought much about it.” Catherine hesitated, then added, “She loved my father.”

“Loves,” he corrected gently.

“Loves,” Catherine agreed softly.

“You’re close?”

“Always. She’s incredible. If you meet her and still think we’re alike, then it would be the greatest compliment anyone could ever give me.”

“I think you’re incredible,” he whispered, playfully nuzzling her neck. His arms were tightly wrapped around her middle, and she felt as though she were in the most secure place in all the world—in Royce’s loving arms.

Content, Catherine smiled, folded her arms over his and closed her eyes. “What are we going to do, Royce?”

She felt the harsh sigh work its way across his chest. It was a question she was sure he’d asked himself a hundred times. One that had hounded them both for weeks, and they were no closer now to a solution than they had been before.

“I wish I knew.” It went without saying that if they continued in this vein they were both going to be booted out of the Navy. “I never thought I’d be jealous of my own daughter.”

“Of Kelly?” Catherine didn’t understand.

“Yes, of Kelly.” His grip around her middle tightened. “She, at least, can spend the night with you.”

Catherine grinned and nestled back in his arms.

“How do you think I felt learning that you sleep in a little slip of lace that’s all see-through on top?”

“She told you that?” Catherine asked, twisting around.

“Yes! Is it true?”

“Yes.”

Royce groaned. “You could have lied…I wish you had lied.”

“Did she also tell you I sleep on ivory-colored satin sheets?”

“No, she was merciful enough to skip over that part,” he growled in her ear. “Oh, sweet heaven, it feels so good to hold you in my arms. I could get drunk on you.”

Catherine was equally content, although she was likely to suffer in the morning. The console was digging into her hip, but it was a small price to pay for the pleasure of being in Royce’s arms.

“You’re going to be all right now?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what came over me. Obviously I have a lot of unresolved feelings for my father.”

“Don’t get so philosophical. Your mother is letting go of an important part of your lives together. It’s only natural for you to feel a certain amount of regret.”

There was a lot more than regret in that raging storm of tears that overtook her, but Royce didn’t know that. Catherine had yet to fully comprehend the blitz of feelings herself. Her emotions were hopelessly tangled. But it didn’t matter, she could face anything or anyone as long as Royce was by her side, as long as the man she loved would hold her tight.

* * *

The orders Royce received to conduct an under way inspection aboard the USS Venture, a small service craft used by the base, seemed like a godsend. Royce needed time away from Bangor, and from Catherine. The time away was essential to his peace of mind. Three days aboard the Venture would help him gain some perspective on what was happening between them.

A hundred times he’d told himself to stay away from her. They were playing with a lit stick of dynamite. The fact they were both doing it with their eyes wide open frustrated him even more.

Royce had done everything he knew to get her out of his mind. He’d ignored her, pretended she didn’t exist. When it came to dealing with her at the office, he made her a faceless name and tried to react to her that way. He’d had women under his command before without there ever being so much as a hint of a problem.

The difficulty was it didn’t work. Royce couldn’t ignore Catherine any more than he could jump over the moon. It was a physical impossibility. He couldn’t look at her, even in the most impersonal way, and not hunger for the taste of her. It went without saying that a single taste would never satisfy him, and he knew it. He had to feel her, had to run his hands down the soft curving slopes of her body and experience for himself her ready response to his touch.

Some mornings he walked into the office and with one glance at her he’d been forced to knot his hands at his sides just to keep from reaching for her. The ache would start then and last all day and sometimes long into the night. Was it any wonder his men had come up with a few choice names for him while he was in his present state of mind?

The physical frustration was killing him, and as far as Royce could tell it was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

Just when Royce was foolish enough to believe he had everything under control, she’d called him, weeping in the middle of the night. If he hadn’t been so starved for her, he might have been able to handle the situation differently. But the moment he’d heard her weep, the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her had been overwhelming. Already it was happening. What he swore never would. He arranged for them to meet in some out-of-the-way place where no one was likely to see them.

Royce justified the meeting, remembering how she’d been there for him when Kelly was in the hospital. Helping her deal with the fact her mother was going to remarry was returning the kindness, nothing more.

To further vindicate his actions, he’d convinced himself that he’d have done the same thing for anyone under his command. That might be true, but he doubted that he’d meet them at the end of a long dirt road. Nor would he hold and kiss them the way he did Catherine.

From that night forward, matters had only gotten worse. Royce could feel his control slipping even more than before. Twice he found himself looking for excuses to call her into his office just so he could hear the sound of her voice. It was coming to the point that she was able to maintain protocol much better than he was. A bad sign. A very bad sign.

Kelly wasn’t helping matters any. If having to deal with Catherine at the office wasn’t bad enough, Kelly talked about her constantly. The kid was crazy about Catherine and had been from the moment they’d met. At first Royce was convinced it was the fingernails, but gradually, in a slow and painful process, he’d come to realize how badly Kelly needed a mother figure. Why she chose Catherine and not Missy’s mom or any of the mothers of her friends, Royce had yet to understand. Instead she’d chosen the one woman who was driving Royce slowly out of his mind.

This assignment aboard the Venture was exactly what he needed. Time away.

Royce was packing his bag when Kelly wandered into the bedroom. She plopped herself down on the edge of the mattress and sighed as though she were being abandoned.

“How long are you going to be gone?”

Royce had told her no less than four times, but she continued to ask anyway. “Three days.”

Kelly had wanted to spend the time with Catherine, but it made more sense for her to stay with Missy’s family since the two girls were in the same class at school. Kelly hadn’t been overly thrilled, but she hadn’t argued. At least not any more than she usually did.

“When you get back, can we go for pizza?”

“Sure,” Royce agreed, glancing up long enough to smile at her. He didn’t know why she asked, they always went out to eat when he arrived home from an assignment. It had become tradition.

The phone rang, and Kelly leaped off the bed as though she’d received an electric shock. Even though Royce was less than three feet away, she screamed at the top of her voice, “I’ll get it.”

Inserting his little finger in his ear, Royce cleared the passageway and resumed packing.

Kelly appeared a minute or so later. “It’s for you,” she said, sounding disappointed. “It sounds like Captain Garland.”

Royce nodded. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Royce finished tucking his socks into the corner of the bag and then went down the hallway. Kelly handed him the phone and leaned against the wall and waited until he’d finished.

The conversation with his commanding officer didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. But each one of those minutes might as well have been a lifetime as far as Royce was concerned. What was it that was said about the best laid plans? He didn’t know. Hell he didn’t know much of anything anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Kelly asked once he’d replaced the receiver.

“How do you know that anything’s wrong?”

“Because you’ve got that look again.”

Royce didn’t know what she was talking about, and frankly he wasn’t sure he cared to.

His daughter, however, was bent on telling him. “It’s hard to explain,” Kelly added on a thoughtful note. “It’s a look you get when you’re mad and trying not to show it. Your ears get red on the top and your mouth goes like this.” She scrunched up her lips like an old prune.

“I never look like that,” Royce told her with more than a suggestion of impatience.

“If you say so.”

At least she was smart enough to know when not to argue with him, look or not. For that, Royce could be grateful.

He was halfway back to his room when he decided he might as well let Kelly know. “Catherine’s coming along with me.”

“She is?” Kelly sounded downright thrilled. “How come?”

“There’s been a complaint of sexual harassment on board the Venture that she’s going to investigate. Captain Garland felt it made sense to send us both up at the same time.”

“He is the captain,” the ten-year-old said with an air of great wisdom.

If Kelly thought to comfort him, she’d failed. Miserably.

* * *

It wasn’t until they were both aboard the plane that Royce spoke to Catherine. She was sitting in the seat next to him, but he’d done his damnedest to ignore her. Not that it had done any good. Not that it ever did, but he liked to pretend otherwise.

“How’d you arrange this?” he demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I didn’t,” she said, without looking up from the report she was reviewing. “I was ordered to accompany you.” She made it sound as though she’d rather be anyplace else than sitting next to him.

Royce looked out the window, unexpectedly amused by her tart reply. Apparently she wasn’t any more pleased about this than he was. Well that was par for the course as far as their relationship went.

“If it’s any comfort to you I’ll be away soon enough.” There was a militant strain in her voice that challenged him.

Catherine was going away? It wasn’t any comfort, in fact it was cause for alarm. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll be attending my mother’s wedding.”

“I see.” Royce hadn’t seen the request yet, but he knew there wouldn’t be any problem in granting her leave.

“Unfortunately that isn’t going to help,” he growled. The need to touch her, even in the smallest way, was so strong Royce couldn’t fight it anymore. He moved his leg just enough so his calf could brush against hers. He nearly sighed in relief. Her skin felt silky and smooth, so smooth.

The movement, almost invisible to anyone else quickly captured Catherine’s attention. She jerked her head up and frowned at him.

“Royce,” she breathed, “what are you doing?”

“Looking for a way to get booted out of the Navy it seems.”

She yanked her leg away, expelled a shuddering sigh and returned to the report she was reading. But Royce noticed that her hands were trembling.

Who was he kidding? If anyone was shaking it was he. It started that first afternoon on the track when Catherine had refused to stop running, and it hadn’t lessened since.

Royce laid back his head and closed his eyes. He needed to think. He’d come a hair’s space from making love to her in the front seat of a car. He was meeting her on dirt roads. Now he was reduced to trying to feel her up while on a military transport.

He was in bad shape. Worse than he thought. Only a desperate man would have pulled that trick. Which said a lot about his mental condition. This assignment was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult than he’d imagined.

* * *

That thought proved to be more prophetic than Royce ever dreamed. The first day into the inspection he was so angry he walked around in a red haze. He wasn’t civil to be around. It was so bad, he didn’t even like himself. And for what reason? Because Lieutenant Commander Masterson had taken an instant liking to Catherine. The man had made his interest in her known from the moment they’d stepped on board the Venture.

Royce was making notes when he inadvertently happened upon Masterson talking to Catherine in the narrow hallway. He didn’t like the familiar way in which the young lieutenant commander was leaning toward her. Nor did he appreciate the way the other man was looking at her as though he couldn’t wait to get her into his bed.

“Are you finished with your report?” he demanded of Catherine.

“Not yet.” She looked surprised that he’d even ask since the account of the complaint wasn’t due for several days after their return.

“Then I suggest you start work on it.”

“Yes, sir.” She started to walk past him when Royce turned on Masterson, his eyes narrowed into dark slits. He couldn’t remember a time he’d wanted to take a man down more.

“Problems?” Masterson asked innocently enough.

“This isn’t the Love Boat, Lieutenant Commander,” Royce said as scathingly as he could. “Captain Garland didn’t ask Lieutenant Commander Fredrickson to accompany me for your entertainment.”

The other man’s eyes widened at the verbal attack.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

“But he didn’t…” Catherine intervened, until Royce turned on her, making sure his eyes were hard enough to effectively silence her. She had no business speaking to him. No business defending Masterson, and that infuriated him even more.

“You’re both dismissed,” he said harshly, and waited until they’d retreated in opposite directions.

In the next twenty-four hours, Royce didn’t say more than a handful of words to Catherine. In fact he was avoiding her. She was avoiding him, too. Like the plague. But then so was everyone else—not that he blamed them.

Royce was tired. Mentally and physically. But keyed up at the same time. Before heading off to bed, he decided to stop off in the galley for a cup of coffee. Caffeine sometimes helped to relax him.

He apparently wasn’t the only one who needed something that night. Catherine sat at the table and glanced up when he appeared. She looked startled, as though she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“I’ll leave,” she said, slowly coming to her feet.

“No, stay,” he returned crisply, walking over to the coffeepot.

“Is that an order?”

He had to think about it a moment. “Yes.”

Her hands cupped the mug. Her gaze was centered on the steaming liquid as though something were about to leap out.

Royce poured himself a cup and sat down across from her. He didn’t say anything for several moments, then decided now was as good a time as any to speak his mind. As bad a time as any for that matter. At least they were alone.

“I don’t like the way Masterson’s been looking at you,” he admitted, frowning as he did so.

Catherine’s head flew up so fast it was a wonder she didn’t injure her neck.

“Lieutenant Commander Masterson?”

“Yes,” he said roughly. He knew he sounded possessive, but he couldn’t help himself. It had been eating at him from the moment they’d arrived. Mark Masterson had made a fool of himself over Catherine. Everyone had noticed. Certainly Catherine must have. Royce had even heard a couple of the men talking about the way Masterson had an eye for the ladies.

“You mean to say you’ve been acting like a…a…” Apparently she couldn’t think of anything bad enough. “Like a moron because you’re…jealous?” Her words were issued vehemently in a whisper.

“I have not been acting like a moron,” he denied hotly, in the same low tones she used. “I have eyes.”

“And what would you like me to do about it?”

Her words took Royce by surprise. He expected her to deny it, claim it was all in his head. He even thought she’d call him a fool for saying it. Okay, she’d called him a moron. That was close. What he hadn’t anticipated was her acceptance of the problem.

“Well?” she demanded.

“What do I expect you to do about it?” he repeated. The answer came to him then, as profoundly as anything he’d ever felt. It was all so simple. It was all so complicated.

“Marrying me would settle it.”