Commander Frank Dillon figured he had to be the biggest jerk alive, but in his own defense, his behavior toward SMO Karas was motivated strictly by self-preservation.
A week after he’d gone back to sick bay, he was released. Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough. Every second he spent in close proximity to Alison was pure agony. More times than he wanted to admit, he had to remind himself that she was married. Married with a capital M. All he had to do was glance at the ring to remember she was off-limits. Granted, she’d switched it to her right hand, but that act of deception actually bothered him more.
He’d fallen for her, and fallen hard. Whenever he saw her, his heart did a free fall—like a paratrooper diving from a plane—until he saw that damned ring. Then he knew it was time to pull the rip cord and put an end to his ridiculous fascination with the woman.
This sort of thing didn’t happen. Not to him. He was particularly confused by the fact that although Alison wore a wedding band, she’d sent him some pretty clear signals—signals that said she was interested and available. While he was undeniably tempted, Frank felt sickened by her lack of respect for her husband and her vows. He wanted nothing more to do with her.
Back on the bridge at the end of his shift, Frank knew the crew had been eagerly waiting for the USS Woodrow Wilson to make its port call in Guam. Shore leave had been granted.
During his years in the Navy, Frank had sailed all over the world, and his favorite destination was the South Pacific. He’d read many accounts of the action here during World War II, as well as histories of the explorers.
“You headed ashore?” Commander Howden asked, joining Frank on the bridge.
Frank, still feeling the effects of his surgery, had decided against leaving the carrier. There would be ample opportunity on other voyages. “Not this time.”
“A few of us are talking about golf and dinner. Why don’t you come along?”
“Thanks, I’ll give it some thought.” Frank wouldn’t willingly admit it, but he felt too weak. A round of golf would probably do him in.
Howden started to walk away, then unexpectedly turned back. “I met the senior medical officer the other day—Alison Karas,” he said casually.
Frank stiffened at the sound of her name.
“She’s a good woman. I knew her husband.”
Frank’s jaw tightened at his use of the past tense. “Knew?”
Hal nodded. “He was killed a couple of years ago in a training accident. He’d been aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln. You heard about it,” he said.
“Yes—but I didn’t make the connection.” Frank spoke quietly.
“No reason you should, I suppose,” Howden continued. “I just realized it myself.”
Frank felt angry with himself for the false assumptions he’d made. Alison was a widow and all along, all this time, he’d believed she was married and unfaithful. He hated everything he’d been thinking about her, hated the way he’d magnified her supposed transgressions in his mind. He knew why he’d done it—because he was afraid of what might happen.
As soon as possible, Frank went down to sick bay. He needed—no, wanted—to apologize. He couldn’t explain his behavior, but he could let Alison know he regretted what he’d said and done. Perhaps the best course of action was to leave things as they were, but he was unwilling to do that.
He found Lieutenant Rowland on duty in sick bay. Not an enviable task when the majority of his shipmates were touring paradise. The lieutenant snapped to attention when Frank came in.
“Can I help you, Commander?”
Frank returned the salute. “At ease. I’m looking for Ali. Do you know where I might find her?”
“Ali?” The young officer couldn’t hide his surprise. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s gone ashore.”
Frank had guessed as much. “Did she happen to mention where she was going?”
“No, sir, but I suspect she’s headed toward the Farmer’s Market. A few of the other women officers mentioned they were planning to check it out.”
“Thank you,” Frank said as he spun around. His energy had been waning, but adrenaline pumped through him now as he hurried off the ship. Fortunately, he was familiar with the island and grabbed the first taxi he saw, paying the driver handsomely.
The streets swarmed with sailors, tourists and locals. The carnival-like atmosphere was everywhere. Music played, chickens squawked and locals hawked their wares, eager to separate the sailors from their hard-earned dollars. The market was so crowded it was nearly impassable.
In this mass of humanity, Frank wondered if locating Alison was a lost cause. That didn’t discourage him, but he knew his odds weren’t good.
What he should do, Frank decided after a fruitless hour, was think like a woman. The problem with that was he didn’t know how a woman thought. If he did, his marriage might’ve lasted longer than two years.
Marriage. The word shot through his brain. Even if he located Ali, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d say to her, or how she’d react. He’d apologize, that much he knew. He must’ve been intolerable the entire time he was in sick bay, and he admired the way she’d confronted him, admired her professionalism. It wasn’t easy to admit he’d been a colossal jerk; if for no other reason, Frank owed her an apology. Then, with his conscience clear, he’d walk away and that would be the end of it.
Suddenly he saw her. She was with a group of female officers, examining a bolt of silk. A flower lei was draped around her neck and the sun shone on her gleaming dark hair. Gazing at her, Frank stood stock-still as the human traffic moved around him.
He watched Ali run her palm over the red silk and ask the proprietor one question and then another. Frank couldn’t hear the man’s response, but apparently she didn’t like it because she promptly shook her head and left without further haggling.
She hadn’t seen Frank, since she was moving straight toward him. He remained frozen, waiting for her to notice that he was there. The two women with her recognized him first. One of them, another lieutenant commander, tilted her head toward Alison and he saw Alison’s eyes swing in his direction. Almost immediately she looked away, an expression of discomfort on her face.
“Lieutenant Commander Karas,” he said crisply, stepping up to her. Perhaps she’d think he was on official business. “I need a moment of your time.”
She blinked as if gathering her composure.
He scowled at her companions and they quickly took the hint.
“We’ll meet up with you later,” one friend stated, setting off.
The other lingered a moment, obviously concerned about leaving Ali in the company of the ogre patient. But at Ali’s nod, she rejoined the first woman.
“How can I help you, Commander?” Ali asked. Her shoulders were back as if she expected another ugly confrontation.
Frank wasn’t good at apologizing. It wasn’t something he’d had much practice at. He began to speak, and then paused to clear his throat before he could get out even one short sentence. “I want to apologize for last week.”
Her eyes flared briefly, but she didn’t respond.
“I have no excuse for my rude and arrogant behavior,” he went on, repeating the very words she’d used to describe him. He despised humiliation in any form, but in this instance he deserved it.
“Apology accepted, Commander. No one likes being sick and helpless.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, willing to accept her explanation.
His remark was followed by silence. Frank usually didn’t have problems expressing his views, but just then, standing in a crowded market in the middle of a South Pacific island—standing there with Ali—he couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say.
“I appreciate everything you did to make my stay as comfortable as possible,” he muttered.
“You’re welcome,” she said abruptly. She seemed eager to leave.
Frank didn’t blame her.
“Is there anything else?” she prodded when he didn’t resume the conversation.
“No,” he said without inflection, but he wanted to scream that there was. He just didn’t know how to say it. Had they been anyplace else, he might have found the courage to let her know he admired her.
Without another word, she turned and walked toward her friends who stood at a booth, ignoring the proprietor and focusing their attention on him and Ali. Both women seemed to have plenty of opinions, because their heads were close together and they talked rapidly. Frank hated being the object of their scrutiny, but there was no help for it. He’d done what he could; now he had to leave things as they were.
“Lieutenant Commander Karas,” he called out sharply, stopping her.
Alison glanced over her shoulder.
“I heard—I’m sorry about your husband.”
For the briefest of moments, in the second or two it took her to blink, Alison’s eyes went liquid with grief. She quickly regained control of her emotions. “Thank you, Commander. Like you, Peter dedicated his life to the Navy.”
He nodded and felt properly put in his place.
That said, Ali joined her friends. The three of them left and were swallowed up by the crowd.
If searching for Ali was out of character, what he did next was even more so. He returned to the silk merchant and purchased the entire bolt of fabric Alison had so recently examined. The hell if he knew what to do with fifteen yards of red silk.