Fall in love with the Navy!

And with Debbie Macomber’s series of Navy romances… These popular stories, most of them published in the 1990s, are still relevant in today’s world. Maybe even more relevant. They salute the men and women in the U.S. Navy, and the families and friends who support them. Each is an emotional story, a dramatic romance featuring Debbie Macomber’s always-believable characters, as well as her trademark touches of humor. Each is highly enjoyable on its own, but together they create a memorable reading experience!

The six books, in chronological order, are:

NAVY WIFE

NAVY BLUES

NAVY BRAT

NAVY WOMAN

NAVY BABY

and NAVY HUSBAND.

Life and Love in the Navy. There’s nothing like it!

Debbie Macomber’s Navy Series Box Set

Navy Wife

Navy Blues

Navy Brat

Navy Woman

Navy Baby

Navy Husband

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Copy

Title Page

Navy Wife

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Navy Blues

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Navy Brat

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Navy Woman

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Navy Baby

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Navy Husband

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Copyright

Navy Wife

New York Times Bestselling Author

Debbie Macomber

Chapter 1

After walking over to the window in her brother’s empty apartment, Lindy Kyle paused and let her tired gaze rest on the view of downtown Seattle. Dusk was settling over the steel jungle, and giant shadows from the skyscrapers fell into the maze of concrete across the picturesque waterfront. In another mood Lindy would have been struck by the intricate beauty of what lay before her, but not now.

Seattle, as Steve had claimed, really was a lovely city. When she’d arrived, she’d been so preoccupied with trying to find the address of the apartment and the appropriate parking space for her Volkswagen Rabbit in the lot behind the building that she hadn’t taken the time to notice anything around her.

Now she sighed at the panorama that lay before her. “I’m actually here,” she said, mainly to hear herself speak. She’d come to expect a lot from one western city. She felt as an immigrant might have years ago, sailing into New York Harbor, seeking a new way of life and freedom from the shackles of the past. Lindy had been bound, too, in the chains of grief and unhappiness.

Dramatically she posed, pretending to be the Statue of Liberty, her right hand held high as if gripping a lighted torch, her left firmly clasping imaginary stone tablets. “Okay, Seattle, give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Lindy sucked in a shaky breath and battled back tears. “Seattle, calm my fears. Clear my head.” She dropped her arms and swallowed at the growing knot in her throat. “Heal my heart,” she added in a broken whisper. “Please, heal my heart….”

Exhaling raggedly, she dropped her arm and admitted it was too much to expect—even from a place that had once been honored as the most livable city in the United States. Far too much to ask.

Suddenly exhausted, Lindy picked up her suitcase and headed down the narrow hallway toward the two bedrooms. She opened the first door and stood in the doorway examining the room. The closet, which was partly open, displayed an organized row of civilian clothes hanging inside, crisp and neat. A framed picture or two rested on the dresser, but Lindy didn’t pay attention to those. This had to be the bedroom of Rush Callaghan, her brother’s roommate. Currently both men were at sea serving six-month tours of duty. Steve was an officer aboard the submarine Atlantis, somewhere in the Pacific upholding God, country and the American flag. Lindy had no idea where Rush was and didn’t particularly care. Men weren’t exactly her favorite subject at the moment.

She closed the bedroom door and moved on to the next room. A dresser drawer hung open, mismatched socks draped over its edge. Bulky-knit sweaters were carelessly tossed on the ledge above the closet and shoes were heaped in a pile on the floor.

“Home, sweet home,” Lindy said with a soft smile. She really was fond of her brother, and although he was nearly ten years older, her childhood had been marked with memories of his wit and warmth. She laid her suitcase across the unmade bed, opened it and reached for Steve’s letter. “Come to Seattle,” he’d written in his lazy, uneven scrawl. “Forget the past and make a new life for yourself.” Steve had had firsthand experience with pain, Lindy knew, and she respected his judgment. He’d survived the emotional trauma of divorce and seemed to have come out of it with a new maturity.

“You’ll know which bedroom is mine,” Steve’s letter continued. “I can’t remember the last time I changed the sheets so you might want to do that before you crash.”

Crashing certainly sounded inviting, Lindy mused, sinking with a sigh onto the edge of the unmade bed.

Although she’d nearly memorized Steve’s words, Lindy read completely through the letter once more. Clean sheets were in the hall closet, he explained, and she decided to tackle making the bed as soon as she’d unpacked her things. The washer and dryer were in a small laundry room off the kitchen, the letter went on to say.

When she finished reading, Lindy placed Steve’s instructions on top of the dresser. She stripped off the sheets, carried the bedding into the laundry room and started the washing machine.

When the phone rang it caught her off guard, and she widened her eyes and placed her hand over her heart as shock waves washed over her.

It rang one more time before she decided to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Lindy, it’s your mother.”

“Oh, hi, Mom.” Lindy smiled at her parents’ habit of identifying themselves. She’d been able to recognize her own family’s voices since she was a child.

“I take it you’ve arrived safely. Honey, you should have phoned—your father and I’ve been worried.”

Lindy sighed. “Mom, I just walked in the door not more than ten minutes ago. I was planning to phone after I fixed myself something to eat.”

“Did your car give you any problems?”

“None.”

“Good.” Her mother sounded relieved.

“Everything’s fine—just the way I said it would be,” Lindy added.

“What about money?”

“Mom, I’m doing great.” A slight exaggeration, but Lindy wasn’t desperate—at least she wouldn’t be if she found a job reasonably soon. The unemployment problem was one she hoped to correct first thing in the morning.

“I talked to your Uncle Henry in Kansas City and he said you should think about applying at Boeing…that airplane company. He claims they’re always looking for someone with a degree in computer science.”

“I’ll do that right away,” Lindy answered in an effort to appease her mother.

“You’ll let us know when you’ve found something?”

“Yes, Mom. I promise.”

“And don’t be shy about asking for money. Your father and I—”

“Mom, please don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just great.”

Her mother expelled her breath in a long, anxious sigh. “I do worry about you, sweetie. You’ve been so terribly unhappy. I can’t tell you how disappointed your father and I are in that young man of yours.”

“Paul isn’t mine anymore.” Lindy’s voice trembled a little, but she needed to say it out loud every now and then just to remind herself of the fact. For four years she’d linked all thoughts of her future with Paul; being without him felt as though a large part of herself was missing.

“I saw his mother the other day, and I’ll have you know I took a great deal of pleasure in looking the other way,” Grace Kyle continued, with more than a hint of righteous indignation.

“What happened between Paul and me isn’t Mrs. Abram’s fault.”

“No. But she obviously didn’t raise her son right—not if he could do something this under-handed and despicable to you.”

“Mom, do you mind if we don’t talk about Paul anymore? Ever?” Even the mention of his name brought with it a sharp pain, yet part of her was still hungering for news of him. Someday, Lindy vowed, she’d look back on these awful months and smile at the memory. Someday, maybe. But not now.

“Lindy, of course I won’t talk about Paul if you don’t want me to. I was being insensitive—forgive me, sweetie.”

“It’s all right, Mom.”

A short, throbbing silence followed. “You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Lindy answered and nodded. “I promise.”

After a few more minutes of filling her parents in on the news of her trip, Lindy replaced the receiver. The washing machine went into the spin cycle behind her, and she tossed a glance over her shoulder. That was the way her world felt lately, as if she were being put through a churning wash. The only question that remained to be answered was if she’d come out of this drip-dry and wrinkle free.

* * *

Rush Callaghan stood on the bridge of the USS Mitchell, a pair of binoculars gripped tightly in his hands. He paused to suck in a deep breath of tangy salt air and sighed his appreciation for the clear, clean scent of it. Being on the open seas stirred his blood back to life after three long months of shore duty. He relaxed, home at last, as the huge l,092-foot-long aircraft carrier cut a wide path out of Puget Sound and into the dark green waters of the north Pacific. Rush was more than glad. He had recognized from the time he was a boy that his destiny lay on the swirling waters of the world’s oceans. He’d been born on the sea and he’d known ever since that this was where he belonged, where he felt truly alive.

Rush had dedicated his life to the sea, and in turn she had become his mistress. She was often demanding and unreasonable, but Rush wouldn’t have had it any other way. A gentle breeze carried with it a cool, soothing mist. The spray came at him like the gentle, caressing fingers of a woman riffling through his hair and pressing her body against his own. Rush grinned at the picturesque image, knowing his lover well. She was gently welcoming him back into her arms, but Rush wasn’t easily fooled. His mistress was fickle. Another time, possibly soon, she would lash out at him and harshly slap his face with cold, biting wind and rain. Her icy fingers would sting him with outrage. It was little wonder, Rush thought, that he’d come to think of the sea as his lover, since she often played the role.

When the Mitchell had pulled out of the Bremerton shipyard eighteen hours earlier, Rush had left nothing to tie him to the shore. No wife, no sweetheart, nothing except a Seattle apartment where he stored his worldly goods. He wasn’t looking to build any bridges that would link him to the mainland. He’d learned early in his career that a wife and family weren’t meant for him. If the waters of the world were his mistress, then the navy would be his wife. There’d been a time when he’d hoped to divide his life, but no more.

A quick exchange of angry words followed by an outburst of disgust from his fellow officer, Jeff Dwyer, caught Rush’s attention and he lowered his binoculars.

“Problems?” he asked when Jeff joined him on the bridge.

Jeff’s mouth tightened and he nodded. “The captain’s just ordered us back.”

“What the hell?” Rush felt a hot surge of anger pulse through him. “Why?”

“There’s something wrong with the catapults. Apparently maintenance doesn’t have the necessary parts to repair the problem.”

Rush swore under his breath. The catapults were used to launch the Hawkeyes, Intruders, Tomcats and other aircraft from the carrier runway. They were vital equipment for any assignment at sea.

Fortunately the squadrons flying in from two navy airfields on the West Coast—a hundred planes were scheduled to rendezvous with the Mitchell—had yet to arrive. As chief navigator it was Rush’s job to guide the carrier through the waters; now it was up to him to head the Mitchell back to the shipyard.

“I’ve already sent out word to the airfields,” Jeff informed him. “They’ve turned the planes back.”

Frustration built up in Rush like a tidal wave. After three months shore duty and a mere eighteen hours at sea they had to bring the Mitchell home to port with her tail between her legs.

“How long?” Rush asked between clenched teeth.

“Maintenance doesn’t have a figure yet, but if it’s as bad as it looks, we could be sitting on our butts for at least a week.”

Rush spat a four-letter word.

“My sentiments exactly,” Jeff answered.

* * *

Rush let himself into the dark apartment and set his seabag just inside the door. The way things were working out he could be here awhile. The realization angered him every time he thought about it. He moved into the kitchen and set the six-pack of cold beer on the counter. He rarely indulged himself this way, but tonight he was in the mood to get good and drunk.

Not bothering to turn on any of the lights, Rush took one chilled aluminum can and carried it with him into the living room, pulling off the tab as he went. Standing in front of the wide picture window, he offered a silent toast to the glittering lights of the waterfront several blocks below. He took a large swig of beer. Tonight something cold and alcoholic suited his temperament.

He took another long drink, sat on the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table. What he needed was a woman. One sexy as hell, with big breasts and wide hips to bury himself in—one who would relieve his angry frustration. Rush frowned. The crude thought wasn’t like him. He rarely allowed his mind to indulge in such primitive fantasies. But tonight, after watching weeks of planning and months of hard work go down the drain, Rush wasn’t in the mood for niceties.

Against his will, Rush remembered the look in his friend Jeff’s eyes when he’d stepped off the gangplank. Jeff had been hurrying to get home to his wife, Susan. Rush didn’t need much of an imagination to know what Jeff was doing about now—and it wasn’t drinking cold beer in a dark living room. He allowed himself to grin. Jeff and Susan. Now that was one marriage Rush wouldn’t have bet good money on. But Susan Dwyer had pleasantly surprised him. When Jeff had left Bremerton earlier in the week, there’d been no tears in her eyes, only smiles. She’d been a good wife to Jeff from the first. Susan wasn’t a clinger or a complainer; the only bonds she’d wrapped around her husband had been in his heart.

Rush had seen subtle changes in his friend since his marriage. He’d been looking for major ones. Over the years Rush had witnessed the power a woman could wield over a sailor’s life often enough to recognize the symptoms. But Susan Dwyer hadn’t been like some of the others, and Rush had silently admired her—and envied Jeff. His friend had gotten damn lucky to find a woman like Susan. Luckier than Rush…. But then Rush had given up trying.

The sound of someone moving behind him jerked Rush into action and he vaulted off the sofa. The bathroom door closed and he heard the rush of running water. What the hell! Someone was in the apartment. It had to be Steve. He moved down the hallway, looked inside his roomate’s bedroom and cocked his eyebrows in astonishment. A silk robe was draped across the end of the bed and the room was littered with female paraphernalia.

Rush released a slow, exasperated breath. He’d been afraid something like this might happen. Steve was still working his way through the pain of his divorce and it had left him vulnerable. Rush was all too familiar with the seductive wiles a woman could use to cloud a man’s better judgment. And now it appeared that some schemer was taking advantage of his friend’s generous nature, planting herself in their apartment. Apparently Steve was still susceptible to being tricked and used. Well, Rush wouldn’t stand for it. A surge of anger at the thought of someone taking advantage of his friend’s kind heart made him clench his fists.

He’d gladly handle this situation, he decided. He’d get rid of her, and if Steve asked for an explanation later, Rush had the perfect excuse. After all they had an agreement about this place and it didn’t include inviting women to move in. His mouth tightened into a narrow line. From what little he could see, this one had made herself right at home. Well, no more.

With beer in hand, he leaned against the wall, crossed his legs and waited. Within a couple of minutes the bathroom door opened and the woman stepped out. Her dark eyes rounded before she let out a soft gasp.

Obviously startled half out of her wits, the woman’s hand flew to her heart, gripping the lacy edge of her pajamas. “Who are you?”

Dear God, wouldn’t you know it, Rush groaned inwardly. This wasn’t just any woman, but one as sexy as the one he’d been fantasizing about, with nice, round breasts and long, inviting legs. One look and Rush could understand why his friend had set her up in this cozy arrangement. Lord knew she was tempting enough. Her sheer baby-doll pajamas revealed peekaboo nipples, firm hips and shapely legs. It took him a full second to realize her hair was dark and nothing like that of the blondes that usually appealed to his friend.

She continued to stare at him, eyes as round as golf balls, her hands pressed flat against the wall behind her. She opened her mouth and stammered, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Other than the small gasp, Rush noted, she revealed no real fear. “Isn’t that supposed to be my question?” he taunted, and his mouth twisted into a cool, appraising smile. She didn’t make an effort to cover herself, but perhaps she wasn’t aware of how the muted moonlight played over her pajamas, giving him tantalizing glimpses of her full breasts. Then again, maybe she was.

“You must be Rush.”

“So Steve mentioned me?” That surprised him.

“Yes…of course.” The woman worked her way past him and retrieved her robe from the foot of the bed, quickly donning it. She made an effort to disguise her uneasiness, but Rush noted that she was trembling. Even from where he was standing he could see that her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. She glanced his way once, silently appealing to him with those huge brown eyes of hers, but Rush was unmoved. If she thought to practice her charms on him, then she could think again. Steve Kyle was his friend and he wasn’t about to let his buddy be used by this woman or anyone else.

As nonchalantly as possible Rush followed her into the bedroom, ignoring the soft scent of jasmine. “How long have you been here?” Her clothes hung in the closet and her things were lined atop the dresser. He lifted the sleeve of a blouse and let the smooth feel of silk run through his fingers. From the look of things, she’d settled right in as though she owned the place. Perhaps she assumed she did; but she’d learn soon enough.

The woman didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she moved out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and turned on the lights. “Only a couple of days.”

“You didn’t waste any time, did you?”

She looked at him as though she hadn’t understood his question. “No.”

He snickered. “I thought not.”

Her gaze left his and rested on the partially empty six-pack of beer. The sight of that seemed to make her all the more nervous and she rubbed the palms of her hands together as though to ward off an unexpected chill. “You’ve been drinking.” Her words sounded like an accusation. The woman’s judgmental attitude only served to amuse Rush. He had to give her credit, though; under like circumstances he didn’t know if he could have exercised such an impudent spirit.

In response to her statement he reached for another beer. His mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Care to join me?” he asked, gesturing toward the four remaining cans.

“No thanks.” She tightened the cinch on her robe and squared her shoulders.

“Somehow I didn’t think you would.” Rush tossed his empty can into the garbage and reached for another. More to irritate her than anything, he took a long, slow drink, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat.

She watched him and braced her hands against the back of the counter. “How long will you be…staying?”

She had one hell of a nerve. “I think I should be the one asking questions, don’t you?”

“I—I suppose.”

She continued to stare at him with those wide, appealing eyes, and Rush struggled to ignore the false innocence of her silent entreaty.

“I take it Steve didn’t let you know I was coming.”

“No, he forgot to mention you.” It was apparent to Rush that his roommate probably had no intention of letting him know. It would have been easy enough to let the matter slide since Steve would be returning from sea duty before Rush was due back into port.

“I’m Lindy.”

He didn’t acknowledge her greeting.

As though to cover her embarrassment, she opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of milk.

Rush watched her actions carefully and noted that the inside of the fridge was well stocked. The observation only served to irritate him more. Knowing how generous Steve was, Rush didn’t doubt that he’d given her the money to get set up in the apartment.

Lindy poured herself a glass and replaced the milk. “This does make things a bit awkward, doesn’t it?”

Again Rush ignored her. Instead of answering her question he pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, nursing his beer. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was more than just pretty. Delicate, he decided, with a soft injured look about her. Damn, he fathomed better than he would have liked what must have led Steve to invite this woman to move in. In addition to the fragile beauty, she was soft and feminine—the kind of woman a lonely sailor imagines sleeping in his bed, waiting for him. Rush understood all too well, but he didn’t like the idea of some woman using his friend. Not when Steve was ripe for pain.

She took a quick swallow of the cold milk, her soft, dark eyes hardly leaving his. Rush was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her anywhere near this apartment. As far as he was concerned she was trouble with a capital T. She must have sensed this because he noticed her fingers tighten around the glass. Obviously she didn’t plan to make this easy.

“It would help if we could reach some kind of agreement to share the place—at least until you leave again,” she said, looking both embarrassed and uneasy.

His slow answering smile was as cool as Rush could manage. He wasn’t about to let a woman sway him out of doing what he must, unpleasant as the task seemed. “Listen, honey,” he said brusquely, “the only one of us who’s going to be leaving is you. And the sooner the better. So pack your bags; I want you gone before morning.”

Chapter 2

So Rush Callaghan was kicking her out of the apartment, Lindy mused. Terrific. What else could go wrong? The answer to that was something she didn’t want to find out. Oh Lord. She’d known Steve’s invitation was too good to be true. Nothing was ever going to be right for her again—she’d been sabotaged by fate while still in her prime….

A quick calculation of her limited funds suggested that she could possibly last two weeks if she rented a cheap hotel room and ate sparingly. Two weeks and she’d be forced to return to Minneapolis a failure. The thought wasn’t a comforting one. Her parents would gladly take her in, but their excessive concern right now was more suffocating than she could bear.

With deliberate calm Lindy drank the last of her milk, carried the glass to the sink and rinsed it out. All the while her thoughts were a churning mass of wary doubts.

She would leave, she decided, because Rush Callaghan had decreed that she must. But she could see no reason to hurry. Simply because he was an officer used to giving orders and having them followed didn’t mean she had to jump at his every command.

“Did you hear me?” Rush asked, his narrowed gaze following her deliberate movements.

“I’ll be out before morning,” was the only answer she would give him, and she forced those words to come out as stiffly as starched sheets.

It gave Lindy fleeting satisfaction to witness the surprise in Rush’s eyes. He stared at her almost as if he’d been looking forward to an argument, to sharpening his wits on hers. Apparently he’d thought she would stand up and issue some kind of challenge. Well, Lindy just wasn’t in the mood to put up much of a fight. If he wanted her out, then fine, she’d pack her bags and leave.

Wordlessly she opened the dishwasher and set the glass inside. His eyes followed her suspiciously, apparently disliking her cool compliance. For the first time he looked unsettled, as though it was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that she could stay until morning. But if the thought crossed his mind, that was as far as it went. He said nothing. Lindy supposed he was right. She could see no reason to prolong the inevitable. But damn it all, she’d never felt so helpless and lost in her life. A condemned man walking to the hangman’s noose had as many options as she seemed to have at the moment.

Lindy turned and left the kitchen. She tried to walk away proudly, but her shoulders sagged with abject defeat. She heard the kitchen chair scrape against the floor as Rush stood and followed her.

Standing in the doorway to her bedroom, Rush glanced at his watch. Lindy pulled out her suitcase from under the bed and looked in the direction of her clock radio, noting the late hour.

As though it went against his better judgment, Rush stuck his hand in his uniform pocket and murmured. “Listen, tomorrow morning is soon enough.”

“Not for me, it isn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” Lindy said with a righteous sigh.

“Lord, how like a woman,” Rush murmured to the ceiling, the words tight and controlled. “She tosses a dart at me and then refuses to acknowledge it. What she really wants me to know is that she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with me. Well, honeybunch, the feeling is mutual!”

Some of Lindy’s control slipped at his taunt, and she angrily jerked a blouse off a hanger. “I don’t suppose you stopped to think that I didn’t move in here without an invitation. Steve invited me. I have his letter right here to prove it if you’d take the time to read—”

“Unfortunately Steve didn’t clear this cozy little arrangement with me,” he interrupted, “and I have no intention of sharing this place with you or any other female.”

“You men think you’re really something, don’t you?” Lindy cried, jerking yet another blouse from a hanger. “You like being in control, dictating whatever you wish on nothing more than a whim.”

He looked surprised that she’d revealed any emotion. Good heavens, just what did he expect from her? Lindy didn’t know, and at this point she simply didn’t care. When she’d finished emptying her closet, she whirled around to face him.

“All along Steve’s been telling me what a great friend you are, a terrific guy. You should meet him, Lindy. I know you’d like him,” she said sarcastically, mimicking her brother’s praise. She cast Rush a disparaging look. “Some roommate you turned out to be. I’ll tell you one thing, mister…”

“Spare me, would you?”

“No.” Lindy slammed the lid of her suitcase closed. “You’re all alike. Every last one of you is just like Paul.”

“Paul?”

Her index finger flew at his chest and she heaved back in indignation. “Don’t you dare mention his name to me. Ever!”

“Lady, you brought him up, I didn’t!”

“That was a mistake. But then I seem to be making a lot of those lately.”

“Your biggest one was moving in here.”

“Tell me about it,” she returned with a sneer. “Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll be out of your way in a few minutes.” She yanked the suitcase off the bed and reached for her coat, preparing to leave. Boldly she paused and raised her eyes to meet his. With her lips curved upward, she regarded him with open disdain. “Steve is really going to be upset about this.”

“I’ll deal with him later.” The look he was giving her said that if anyone had a right to be angry, it was him. As though Steve had been the one to let him down.

With a carefully manufactured calm, Lindy stopped at the front door, set down her suitcase and slipped the key to the apartment off her chain.

Rush held out his hand and she pressed it into his waiting palm. Once again he looked as if he wanted to say that she could stay until morning. She didn’t know what stopped him—probably his pride. Men had to have their pride. No doubt he was aware that she’d take delight in throwing the invitation back in his face.

Lindy watched as Rush’s dark eyes narrowed, then she sadly shook her head. For years she’d been hearing Rush’s name exalted. According to Steve, Rush Callaghan was both an officer and a gentleman. In the space of fifteen minutes, Lindy had quickly discovered he was neither.

“Bad judgment must run in the family,” she said, more for her own ears than his. “If Steve thinks you’re so wonderful, then my mistake about Paul seems like a minor miscalculation of character.” With that she picked up her lone suitcase and pulled open the front door.

Rush’s hand reached out and gripped her shoulder, stopping her. “Family? What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Steve Kyle, my brother. You know, the man who pays half the rent for this place? The one who wrote and claimed I was welcome to live here until I found a job?”

His fingers closed painfully over her shoulder and his eyes simmered with impatient anger. “Why the hell didn’t you say you were Steve’s sister?” He reached for her suitcase, stripped it from her hands and jerked her back inside the apartment. Rush slammed the door shut after her and studied her as though seeing her for the first time.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know!” she shouted back. “Just who the hell did you think I was?” The answer to that was all too obvious and a heated flash of bright color invaded her neck and cheeks. “Oh, honestly, that’s…disgusting.”

Rush raked his fingers through his hair in an agitated movement and walked a few steps past her before turning around to confront her once more. “Listen, I didn’t know. Honest.”

“Does this mean I’m welcome to spend the night in my own brother’s apartment?”

He let that taunt pass. “Yes, of course.”

“How generous of you.”

Rush picked up the suitcase and carried it back into Steve’s bedroom, his jerky movements revealing both his chagrin and his anger. Lindy followed him, no longer sure what to make of this man. She knew Steve’s invitation had been a spur of the moment thing. The two men easily could have gotten their wires crossed. From experience Lindy knew how letters could get held up in the military, and it was likely that Rush hadn’t known she was planning on moving in. Still that didn’t excuse his arrogant attitude toward her.

Lindy was two steps behind the man who Steve claimed was his best friend. Rush set the suitcase back on top of the mattress and hesitated before turning around to face her once more.

“I apologize. Okay?”

She answered him with an abrupt nod. His apology was followed by a short, uneasy silence. Lindy didn’t know what to say. After a tense moment, she murmured. “I think the entire incident is best forgotten.”

“Good.” Rush buried his hands in his pockets, looking as uncomfortable as Lindy felt. “Of course you’re welcome to stay in the apartment as long as you like. I’m hoping to be out of here by the end of the week.”

“I thought you’d already left. I mean…”

Apparently he knew what she meant. “I had, but there were some mechanical difficulties and the Mitchell is back in the shipyard for repairs.”

“For a week?” After nearly drowning in love and concern from her parents, Lindy had been looking forward to living alone. Well, so much for that—at least for now.

“Possibly longer, but don’t worry about it. You’re welcome to stay,” Rush murmured, still looking uncomfortable.

Lindy guessed that he didn’t often make apologies. “Thanks, but I have no intention of burdening you any longer than necessary. As soon as I’ve found a job, I’ll be on my way.”

“’Night,” Rush said abruptly, taking a step in retreat.

“Good night,” Lindy returned with a weak, dispirited smile.

Rush walked out of the room and Lindy closed it in his wake and leaned against the frame. Her mind was whirling. She knew even before she climbed between the sheets that she wasn’t likely to sleep any time soon. Rest, like contentment, had been a fleeting commodity these past few weeks.

* * *

Rush smelled fresh coffee when he woke the next morning. With some reluctance, he climbed out of bed and dressed. He’d made a heel of himself and he wasn’t eager to face Steve’s sister with his head throbbing and his mouth tasting like something floating in a skid-row gutter. After he’d left Lindy the night before, he’d tried to sleep, given up an hour later and gone back to drink the rest of the sixpack of beer and watch television. Now he was suffering the consequences of his folly.

He sat for a moment on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. For years he’d heard stories about his friend’s younger sister. How intelligent she was, how clever, how pretty. Steve was more than fond of his sister. He adored her and now Rush had gone and insulted her, and in the process maligned his best friend. He should have realized that Steve wasn’t fool enough to set a woman up in their apartment. Hell, Steve was still so much in love with his ex-wife that he couldn’t see straight.

Damn it all, Rush mused, irritated with himself. He shouldn’t have downed those first two beers. If his head had been clearer, he might have recognized her name.

Rush frowned. He vaguely recalled Steve telling him about some fancy job with a large insurance company that was supposed to be waiting for Lindy once she graduated from college. Come to think of it, he thought Steve had said she was engaged to be married this summer, as well. He wondered what she was doing in Seattle, but after their poor beginning he wasn’t about to drill her about her job or problems with her fiancé.

* * *

Lindy sat at the kitchen table with the morning newspaper spread out in front of her. She chose to ignore Rush. As far as she was concerned the man had all the sensitivity of a woman-hating Neanderthal. Okay, so they were going to be sharing the apartment for a while. A week, he’d said. She could last that long if he could.

Rush walked over to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup, then muttered something that sounded faintly like a growl. Lindy supposed that was his own prehistoric version of “good morning.” She responded in kind.

“What was that?” he demanded.

“What?”

“That disgusting little noise you just made.”

“I was just wishing you a good morning.”

“I’ll bet,” he muttered, lifting the steaming mug to his lips. He took a sip, then grimaced as if he’d scalded his tongue. He paused to glare at Lindy as though to blame her for his troubles.

Swallowing a chuckle, Lindy stood, deposited her coffee cup in the kitchen sink and left the table, taking the morning paper with her. It wasn’t until she was in her bedroom that she realized she was smiling—something she hadn’t felt like doing in a long while. Maybe having a man around to thwart and frustrate wasn’t such a bad idea. With few exceptions, she’d recently come to view the opposite sex as both demanding and unreasonable. Rush Callaghan certainly fit the mold.

Gathering her clothes and a few personal items, Lindy headed for the bathroom. She’d discarded her robe and had just leaned over the tub to start her bathwater, when Rush strolled in.

“Are you planning to—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw slack.

Reluctantly Lindy straightened, gripping the front of her gaping pajama top with one hand. Color mounted in her cheeks like a red flag rising as she realized that her bent position over the tub had probably granted Rush a bird’s-eye view of her rounded derriere. The flimsy baby-doll top no doubt gave him an equally revealing study of her breasts through the thin material. Incensed with herself as much as at Rush, she jerked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around her middle.

“Sorry,” he muttered and quickly moved out of the room. He stood just across the threshold, watching her as though he couldn’t jerk his gaze away. He swallowed hard once before stiffly stepping away.

Lindy walked over and purposefully closed the door. To be on the safe side she locked it.

“Just how long are you planning to be in there?” Rush shouted, apparently not feeling the necessity to disguise his bad mood.

Lindy reached for her Timex. She looked at the watch and gave herself fifteen minutes. “I’ll be out before eight.” She expected an argument, but if Rush had any objection he didn’t voice it.

Once Lindy was soaking in the hot bathwater, she found herself grinning once more. It was obvious that Rush Callaghan wasn’t accustomed to having a woman around. The thought pleased her, but it didn’t surprise her. The man was a grouch and dictatorial to boot, acting as though it were a woman’s duty to humbly submit to his every command. There weren’t many females who would be willing to put up with that kind of chauvinistic attitude. Lindy certainly wouldn’t.

Nor had she been oblivious to his admiring appraisal. Just the memory of his slow, hungry look was enough to lift her mood considerably. After Paul, it did her ego a world of good to realize another man found her appealing. Plenty of doubts had surfaced over the past few weeks regarding her feminine charms, and it gave Lindy a cozy feeling deep down to realize she possessed enough allure to tempt a man.

Now that she had time to think about it, Lindy admitted that Rush wasn’t so bad-looking himself in a fundamental sort of way. Until a woman recognized his condescending ways, Rush would undoubtedly fascinate her. He was well over six feet tall, with a muscled, whipcord leanness that spoke of discipline and control. His broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips and long legs. Without much effort, Lindy could picture him standing at attention in full-dress uniform, surveying all that was before him with an arrogant tilt of his square jaw. Lindy was surprised at the sudden strong charge of pleasure the thought gave her. Her mind conjured him standing tall and immovably proud, shoulders squared, gaze focused straight ahead. With the thought some of the pique she’d been feeling toward him vanished.

But what intrigued her most about Rush Callaghan, she decided, were his eyes. Although he hadn’t said more than a handful of words to her this morning, his dark blue gaze was highly expressive and more than able to telegraph his sour mood. She’d gained a good deal of pleasure in provoking him and then watching his brows crowd his eyes, narrowing them into slits of cool, assessing color. Later when he’d confronted her in the bathroom, those same clear blue eyes had revealed much more.

As her mind continued to play with the thoughts, Lindy scooted down into the hot water, raised a washcloth and idly drizzled the water over her smooth, flat stomach.

* * *

In the hallway outside the bathroom door, Rush paced like a stalking, caged tiger. He’d checked his watch every damn minute for the past five. Just how long did it take a woman to bathe, for God’s sake? Too damn long, for his tastes.

Finally accepting the fact that pacing wasn’t going to hurry her any, he retreated into his bedroom and sat on the edge of the mattress. In an effort to be honest with himself Rush admitted that it wasn’t the fact that Lindy was hogging the one facility in the apartment that irritated him so much. It was the tantalizing figure she’d presented to him when he’d inadvertently walked in on her.

Her firm young body had all but taken his breath away, and when he checked his hands he found he was still trembling with the effects of the brief encounter. He hadn’t a clue as to why she would wear that silly piece of lace. The silky see-through fabric didn’t hide a damn thing.

Like an innocent, he’d moved into the bathroom only to be confronted by the sweet curve of her buttocks and the milky white skin of her long, shapely legs. Rush could swear the woman’s legs went all the way up to her neck.

If that sight hadn’t been enough to hammer the breath from his lungs, having her turn around and confront him had. Her full pink breasts had darkened at the tips as she struggled to hold the front of her pajamas together. Not that her efforts had done much good. Her nipples had hardened and pointed straight at him as though begging to be kissed. Even now the image had the power to tighten his groin and make his breath come in harsh, uneven gulps.

A week. Oh Lord. He wondered if he could last that long. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He hoped the Mitchell would be ready to sail by then because he didn’t know how much longer he could contain himself around Lindy. He knew he had to avoid a relationship with her at all costs. In addition to being his best friend’s sister, Lindy was hurting, Rush realized. Something had happened—he didn’t know what, didn’t need to know—but he’d recognized the heavy shadow of pain and grief that hung over her head like a dark thundercloud. Something had knocked her world off kilter. And Rush wasn’t in a position to right it. He wasn’t anyone’s savior. In the meantime, the best thing that could happen was for him to keep his eyes and ears to himself and pray the Mitchell left ahead of schedule.

* * *

Lindy found Rush was in the kitchen when she returned from job hunting late that afternoon. Her day had gone amazingly well and she felt greatly encouraged. After filling out dozens of forms and passing a series of tests, she was scheduled for an interview at the Boeing Renton plant for the following Monday. The salary was more than she’d hoped for and the benefits substantial. She held high hopes for the interview. Perhaps the worm had finally turned and her luck was going to change. She certainly hoped so. But in the meantime she felt obligated to keep job hunting in case something else turned up between now and then. Besides she didn’t relish lingering around the apartment, bumping into Rush everytime she turned around.

“Hi,” Lindy greeted Rush cheerfully, draping the strap of her purse over the back of the kitchen chair. She was in the mood to be generous with her reluctant roommate. After her fruitful day of job hunting, she was actually beginning to feel a little like her old self.

It was obvious, however, from the vicious way Rush was scrubbing away at the dishes that his earlier dark mood hadn’t improved.

He grumbled a reply, but didn’t turn around. “Listen, I’ve got a schedule posted outside the bathroom so there won’t be a recurrence of what happened this morning.”

A schedule for the bathroom? He had to be joking! “Okay,” she answered, having difficulty disguising her amusement. She opened the refrigerator and took out a cold can of soda, closed the door and momentarily leaned against it. It struck her then that she was hungry. She’d eaten lunch hours before, but with her limited funds she couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant meal and had opted, instead, for a fast-food chicken salad. She had started to search through the cupboards when Rush turned around and nearly collided with her

“Excuse me,” he said stiffly.

“No problem.” She pressed herself against the counter as he moved past.

From the way he skirted around her, one would think she was a carrier of bubonic plague.

Without another word, Rush wiped his hands dry, rehung the dish towel and moved into the living room to turn on the television.

Since he didn’t appear to be the least bit communicative, she wasn’t about to ask him if he’d eaten or if he was hungry. Far be it from her to appear anxious to share a meal with Rush when he obviously wanted to ignore her. They weren’t on a Sunday-school picnic here, they were merely polite strangers whose presence had been forced on each other.

Sorting through the cupboards, Lindy brought out spaghetti noodles and a bottle of spicy Italian sauce. After weeks of a skimpy appetite, it felt good to think about cooking something substantial.

The sausage was frying up nicely and the faint scent of fennel and sage wafted through the kitchen. Lindy brought out an onion and had begun dicing it to add to the meat when the knife slipped and neatly sliced into her index finger.

The sight of blood squirting over the cutting board shocked more than hurt her. She cried out in a moment of panic and rushed to the sink, holding her hand.

“Lindy, are you all right?”

She ignored the question. The cut hurt now. Badly. Closing her eyes, she held her finger under the running water.

“What happened?” Rush demanded, joining her at the sink.

“Nothing.” Already the stainless steel was splashed with blotches of blood.

“You cut yourself!”

He sounded angry, as though she’d purposely injured herself in a futile attempt to gain his sympathy. “Are you always this brilliant or is this show of intelligence for my benefit?” she asked through clenched teeth. He looked stunned for a minute as though he didn’t understand a word of what she was saying. “Any idiot could see I’ve cut myself,” she cried, her voice raised and laced with a healthy dose of fright.

“Let me take a look at it.”

She shook her head forcefully, wishing he’d go away so she could assess the damage herself. The terrible stinging had been replaced by an aching throb. She couldn’t keep herself from bouncing, as if the action would lessen the pain.

“Give me your hand,” he demanded, reaching for it.

“Stop shouting at me,” she yelled, and jerked away from him. “As far as I’m concerned this is all your fault.”

“My fault?” His expressive blue eyes widened.

“Any fool knows better than to keep sharp knives around.” Lindy knew she wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“For God’s sake, stop hopping around and let me get a good look at it.”

Using his upper body, he trapped her against the counter. She really didn’t have any choice but to let him examine the cut. Biting unmercifully into her bottom lip, she unfolded her fist, while gripping her wrist tightly with her free hand.

His touch was surprisingly gentle and she watched as his brow folded together in a tight frown of concern.

“It doesn’t look like you’re going to need stitches.”

Lindy expelled a sigh of relief. With no health insurance, a simple call to the hospital emergency room would quickly deplete her limited funds. And although her parents were willing, Lindy didn’t want to ask them for money.

“Here.” With a tenderness she hadn’t expected from Rush, he reached for a clean towel and carefully wrapped it around her hand. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Wait here and I’ll get a bandage.”

It was all Lindy could do to nod. She felt incredibly silly now, placing the blame on him for having a sharp knife. He left her and returned a couple of minutes later with some gauze and tape.

“I didn’t mean what I said about this being your fault,” she told him, raising her eyes to meet his.

His eyes widened momentarily, and then a smile flickered in their blue depths. “I know,” was all he said.

Although she was willing to credit her loss of blood with the stunning effect of his smile, there was no discounting the way her heart and head reacted. The simple action left Lindy warmed in its afterglow long after her finger was bandaged.

* * *

Three days passed and Rush and Lindy became a little more comfortable with each other. There were still a few awkward moments, but Lindy discovered that they could at least sit across the table from each other and carry on a decent conversation without risking an argument.

Rush tended to stay out of her way—and she, his—but there were certain times of the day when meeting was inevitable. In the mornings when they were both hurrying to get ready to leave the apartment, for instance. Twice Rush had gone out in the evening, leaving abruptly without a word. Lindy hadn’t asked where he went and he didn’t volunteer the information, but Lindy had the impression that he was simply avoiding being at close quarters with her.

Since it seemed silly for them to cook separate meals, they’d reached an agreement that Lindy would prepare the meals and Rush would do the dishes.

Rush was sitting in the living room when Lindy let herself into the apartment on Friday afternoon. She tossed her purse aside and slumped down on the opposite end of the sofa away from him.

“Any luck?” he asked in a conversational way, watching her.

Lindy noted that he looked tired and frustrated. “No, but I’m hoping everything will come together at the interview on Monday.”

He stood, rammed his hands into his pockets and looked away from her, staring out the window. “I’m not exactly filled with good news myself.”

“Oh?” She studied him closely, wondering at his strange mood.

“Without going into a lot of detail,” he said, his voice tight, “the problem holding up the Mitchell isn’t going to be easily fixed.”

Lindy nodded and drew in a ragged breath, not sure what was coming next.

“It’s going to take as long as a month to have the parts flown in,” he continued.

“I see.” She straightened and brushed aside a crease in her blue skirt, her fingers lingering over the material. “I suppose this means you want me to leave then, doesn’t it?”

Chapter 3

“Leave?” Rush echoed, looking both surprised and angry.

Lindy bounded to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides in tight fists. “It’s a perfectly logical question, so don’t snap at me.”

“I’m not snapping.”

“A turtle couldn’t do it better.”

“Are you always this prickly or is it something about me?” He was glaring at her, demanding a response, the look in his eyes hot enough to boil water.

Although his voice was deliberately expressionless and quiet, Lindy knew by the tight set of his jaw that he was getting madder by the minute. Not that she cared. The man drove her absolutely loony. She’d never known anyone who could control his emotions the way Rush did. Oh sure, he laughed, he smiled, he talked, he argued, but in the entire four days that she’d been living in the apartment with him, he’d revealed as much sentiment as a wooden Indian. Even when she’d cut her finger and hopped around the kitchen like a crazed kangaroo, he’d been as calm and collected as though he handled hurting, frightened women every day of his life. Nothing seemed to faze Rush. Nothing.

“Well, you needn’t worry. I’ll go,” she announced with a proud tilt of her chin. “It won’t be necessary for you to ask twice.” She bent down and reached for the strap of her purse, her heart pounding like a charging locomotive. Moving was something she should have done the minute she realized she wasn’t going to have the apartment to herself.

“Damn it, Lindy. I didn’t say you had to leave.”

She blinked. “You didn’t?”

“No. You jumped to conclusions.”

“Oh.” Now she felt like a bloody idiot. It was on the tip of her tongue to apologize. She’d had a rough day; the heel had broken off her shoe and the job she’d gone to apply for wasn’t the least bit as it had been advertised. Although they’d offered it to her, she’d decided against it. Good grief. She wouldn’t have been anything more than a glorified desk clerk. Maybe she shouldn’t be so particular, but after four years of college she wanted so much more than to file papers and answer a telephone.

Maybe she was feeling a little guilty because she’d told Rush she hadn’t had any luck when she’d actually gotten a job offer. And refused it.

They stood not more than five feet apart and his piercing gaze locked with hers, burning straight through her proud resolve.

When Lindy spoke her voice was husky with emotion, and her heart began a heavy muted pounding against her rib cage. “I lied.”

Rush’s eyes clouded, then hardened, and Lindy felt the dread crowd its way into her throat. Rush wasn’t the type of man who would take something like this lightly.

“What did you lie about?”

“I got offered a job today. I turned it down.” With her long tapered nails biting into the flesh of her palms, she explained the circumstances. “I thought you should know because…well, because I plan to rent my own place as soon as I can after I find something. But it looks like I could be around awhile.”

A smile flickered over his lips and he appeared to relax a little. “I can stand it if you can.”

“That’s debatable.”

They were both grinning then, and Lindy felt the uneasy tension seep from her limbs. Now that she’d explained things to Rush she felt much better. In fact, possibly for the first time, she was completely at ease with him. It wasn’t that he intimidated her so much as he challenged her. She felt as if she had to be constantly on her guard with him. Watch her step, keep the peace—that sort of thing.

“You must be hungry.” she said, turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll get dinner going.”

“Lindy.”

She twisted around, her eyes questioning.

“Since it’s Friday and we’ve both had a trying week, how about going out for a pizza?”

* * *

The minute Rush issued the invitation, he was convinced he’d done the wrong thing. His biggest concern was that he was giving Lindy the wrong impression. When the repairs on the Mitchell were finished he’d be leaving, and he didn’t want to give his best friend’s sister the idea that there could ever be anything romantic between them. The circumstances in which they were living were tempting enough, and here he was adding to the tension by deepening the relationship to something beyond their polite but strained friendship.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he’d suggested they go out. The last couple of nights he’d purposely left the apartment and sat in a bar on the waterfront, nursing a drink or two. The best way to deal with this awkward situation, he’d decided, was to stay away from Lindy as much as possible. Remove himself from temptation, so to speak. Because, damn it all, Lindy Kyle was one hell of a tempting morsel. Her young, firm body was ripe and it had been too long since he’d had a woman. Every time he was in the same room with her, he felt the charge of electricity arc between them. Until today, he’d been able to deal with it, and now he was purposely exposing them to God only knew what.

He wanted to be angry with her—needed it to dilute the effect she had on him. When she’d admitted she’d lied, he’d felt a reassuring irritation surging up inside him, rough and heated. As far as he was concerned, women weren’t exactly known for their integrity. Although disappointed in her, he’d made a conscious effort to control his ire, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to blow up at her.

And then she’d told him about turning down the job, her clear brown eyes soft and filled with contrition for having misled him. Her eager, young face had been as readable as a first-grade primer. She’d stood before him, so forthright and honest, and he’d felt something deep and fundamental move inside him. Before he’d even known what was happening, he’d offered to take her to dinner.

It was more than that, too. Steve’s letter had finally caught up with him, explaining what had happened to Lindy. The poor kid had been through a lot. Apparently she’d been deeply in love with this Paul Abrams, and she’d been crushed when he’d broken the engagement. Rush had been crippled by emotional pain once himself. He knew from personal experience how devastating letting go of a loved one could be.

After reading his friend’s long letter, Rush’s opinion of Lindy had altered. Not that he’d made any dyed-in-the-wool assumptions about her before the letter’s arrival. The fact was, he chose to think of her as little as possible. But after reading what Steve had written, he’d discovered that he admired Lindy for picking up the pieces of her life and forging ahead despite rejection and defeat.

Something else Steve had mentioned had strongly affected Rush. Throughout everything, Lindy hadn’t shed a tear. Her entire family continued to worry about her because she was taking everything far too calmly, holding up much too well. It wasn’t natural, Steve had claimed, sounding very much like the concerned older brother he was. Almost grudgingly, Rush found himself appreciating Lindy’s courage and unsinkable pride. Not so long ago he’d been left to deal with the trauma of a lost love. He could still remember the pitying looks sent his way after Cheryl. The effort and control it had demanded on his part to pretend nothing was wrong, that losing Cheryl didn’t really matter, had drained him. When all the while, every breath he drew had been a reminder that he’d been a fool to ever have trusted the woman. And worse, to have loved her.

Rush could identify with Lindy’s attitude all too well. He would have walked over hot coals before he’d show his pain to anyone, friend or foe. Apparently she felt the same way. Maybe that was the reason he found himself wanting to spend more time with her, looking for a way to be her friend.

* * *

A Michael Jackson song blared loudly from the pizza parlor’s jukebox and, much to her surprise, Lindy found herself tapping her foot to the music and wanting to snap her fingers. Rush sat across the booth from her, looking more relaxed and at ease than she could ever remember seeing him. A tall, frosty pitcher of beer rested in the middle of the table.

Lindy had already downed two thick mugs of ale and was feeling the dizzying, warm effects of the alcohol. Rarely had she tasted better pizza, and she’d pigged down three enormous slices, astonishing them both. Now she felt content and happy, two states of mind that had been sadly lacking in her life recently.

“If there was a big enough floor space, I’d want to dance,” she told Rush, who instantly looked relieved—no doubt because he’d chosen a restaurant without one. Lindy giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You!”

“I’m glad you find me so amusing.”

“Don’t take it personally. It’s just that it feels so good to sit back and relax like this.”

“That amuses you?”

“Yes, because you look like you’ve just been granted a pardon from the governor because you don’t have to dance. And something else.”

His dark brows shot up. “There’s more?”

“Oh yes. For the first time since we met, I don’t feel I have to keep my wits sharpened around you.” She said it with a smile, hoping her good mood would cut any sting from her words. “In case you didn’t know it, Rush Callaghan, you can be one hell of an arrogant jerk. Imagine posting a schedule to use the bathroom!”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in mock consternation, and still he looked every inch the sturdy, capable naval officer she knew him to be.

“There are a few truths about yourself I could enlighten you with as well, Lindy Kyle.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded.

He was teasing her and Lindy found herself warming to him. When he chose to, Rush could freeze out an Eskimo with one piercing glare. She hated to think of the men on the Mitchell facing his wrath because, although she hadn’t seen it in full force, she’d witnessed enough to know his anger would be formidable. Discovering this gentler, fun-loving side of his nature had been an unexpected surprise.

Still smiling, Rush stood and threw a couple of dollars onto the table. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone pushes aside a few tables and starts up a band.”

Lindy laughed and reached for her sweater and purse. Rush’s hand lightly touched the small of her back as he guided her out of the restaurant. “So you really aren’t going to take me dancing?” she asked, once they were outside in the cool June air.

“Not on your life.”

Lindy released a slow, expressive sigh and glanced up into the dark, warmth of his gaze. A small taste of excitement filled her, and some of the heavy feeling that had weighted her heart for so many interminable weeks lifted.

“Would the lady consider a walk instead?” Rush said, his voice oddly tender, indulgent. He lifted his hand and rested it against her shoulder, his touch amazingly light.

Lindy had the impression that he’d rather not have his hand where it was, but that he couldn’t help himself, and she waded through a surge of elation. It was marvelous to feel like a woman again, and she was highly aware of her power, however fleeting.

They strolled toward the busy Seattle waterfront, weaving in and out of the crowds that lingered on the sidewalk. The air was clean and fresh, smelling of tangy salt and seaweed, and although the sun had set, the gentle breeze carried with it a pleasing warmth.

Rush bought them coffee from a seafood bar and they silently walked along the pier, staring at the lights from the ferryboat as it glided across the murky green waters of Puget Sound.

“Can I see the Mitchell from here?” Lindy asked.

“No. It’s in the shipyard in Bremerton, which is all the way across the Sound.”

“You really love the sea, don’t you?”

Rush’s fingers momentarily tightened their grip on her shoulder. “Yes, I do. Did Steve ever tell you I was born on a ferryboat?”

“No.”

“I think my destiny was cast then. My mother named me Rush because they were hurrying to get her to the hospital in time. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one chooses to look at it, I was born on the water.”

“And have been at home there ever since,” she added in a soft whisper.

He nodded and their eyes met in a brief exchange of rare understanding. Rush continued talking, telling her a little of his youth and his early days at Annapolis. He made a striking figure, leaning against the edge of the pier, Lindy noted. He paused and smiled down at her. His eyes narrowed briefly with appreciation and it was as if they had become two different people for this one special night.

Rush looked younger, Lindy mused, more open. For the first time since she’d arrived in Seattle, she felt that she was beginning to appreciate this complex man. Maybe because he was really talking to her, sharing a small part of himself with her. There was no pretense between them tonight. Somehow Lindy realized how rare it was for Rush to expose this amiable, sensitive part of himself, to let down his guard and throw caution to the wind. She felt as though she’d been granted a rare gift, one that she would look back on years from now and treasure.

They left the pier a few minutes later, discarded their Styrofoam cups and continued strolling down the busy sidewalk until they reached Waterfront Park. Lindy braced her foot against the bottom stair, which led to an observation deck and a museum on the second level.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Rush commented, staring into the sky.

Lindy had the feeling he was about to suggest they head back to the apartment. She didn’t want the evening to end. Everything was too perfect for them to leave so soon.

“Come on. I’ll race you up the stairs,” she called, letting the breeze carry her challenge. Not waiting to see if he was going to follow her, she grabbed for the railing and hurled herself up the concrete steps, taking two at a time.

The wind, which had recently picked up, whipped her hair from her face as she made a mad dash up the stairway, doing her best to swallow her laughter.

“Lindy.”

Rush’s exasperated voice was directly behind her, and not wishing to be outdistanced, she lurched forward.

He beat her easily and was waiting for her, blocking her way when she breathlessly reached the top.

“You little fool.”

Still panting and laughing, she tried to leap around him but almost lost her balance. A look of horror crowded his face as he reached out to grab her, but Lindy quickly darted in the opposite direction. Rush tried to block her there, as well, and she shrieked with the sheer joy of the moment and scooted sideways from him.

“Lindy, stop.”

She dodged to her left and when he followed her, she darted to her right, then triumphantly stumbled past him, running to the railing, her eyes wild with joy.

“I won,” she declared triumphantly, swinging around to face him.

Rush collapsed on the park bench, barely winded. “You cheated.”

“Oh, honestly. Can’t you admit it when a woman outsmarts you?”

“I’d admit it if it was true.”

“My foot, you would.” Lindy slumped down on the bench beside him, her breath coming in uneven, shallow gasps. Good Lord, she was out of shape. She let her head fall back so her hair rushed away from her face, granting her a feeling of complete freedom.

Lindy exhaled, dragging the oxygen through her lungs. “Oh, Paul, I can’t remember a night when I’ve had more fun.” The instant the name slipped through her lips, Lindy tensed. “I meant…Rush.”

The excitement that had galloped through her blood just seconds before felt like a deadweight pressing against her chest. For one crazy moment she was paralyzed. She had trouble breathing, trouble moving, trouble thinking. Scalding tears burned in her eyes, and the huge lump in her throat felt as if it were monumental.

Moisture rolled down the side of her face, burning her skin like acid, and she sucked in a trembling sob.

“Lindy, are you all right?”

Rush brushed away a tear and his finger felt incredibly warm against her icy cold cheek.

“Something must have gotten into my eye,” she lied, turning away so he wouldn’t be able to see the extent of her emotion.

“Here.”

He pressed a white handkerchief into her numb fingers, and she made a quick job of wiping her face dry. “I think we should be heading back. Don’t you?”

“Anything you say.”

He sounded so concerned when it was the last thing she wanted. Suddenly Rush was the last person in the world she yearned to be with. Escape seemed of paramount importance. Somehow she found her way to her feet, although the cement seemed to buckle beneath her shoes. With some effort she managed to keep her balance and rush away from the bench.

It would have been too much to hope that Rush would let her go. But oddly enough he seemed to appreciate her mood, remaining silent as he matched his quick steps to hers. Side by side they started up the hill toward First Avenue.

The climb was steep and Lindy was winded by the time they’d gone only a few blocks.

“I’ll get a taxi,” Rush said.

“No. Don’t, please.” She wanted to walk—needed to wear herself out physically so she could collapse in her bed exhausted. It was the only way she could guarantee she would sleep. The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, climbing up one street and then the next one, seemed to help her contain her emotions.

By the time they reached the apartment building, Lindy’s lungs ached and her calf muscles violently protested the strenuous exercise. She waited impatiently while Rush unlocked the front door.

He held it open for her, and in that moment she detested him for the small display of manners. Paul had impeccable manners and look what he’d done to her. Look what he’d reduced her to.

Without even glancing in Rush’s direction she paused just inside the living room and said, her voice weak and faltering, “Thank you for dinner.”

He didn’t answer her for what seemed an eternity, and she had the impression he was willing her to turn around and face him. But she knew she couldn’t without dissolving into wretched emotion.

“Anytime, Lindy.” His words were low and as smooth as velvet.

“Good night.” The sooner she got away from Rush the better.

“’Night.” Again his voice was so gentle, so tender.

She made it all the way to the bathroom door before her gaze blurred so badly with tears that she had to stop and wipe the moisture from her eyes. Drawing in several steadying breaths between clenched teeth gave her some relief. She’d be damned before she’d cry over Paul Abrams.

Damned. Damned. Damned.

Without being aware of how it happened, Lindy found that she had stopped and braced a shoulder against the wall, using it to keep her upright, needing its support. She pinched her nose with her thumb and index fingers, willing back the release of torrential tears.

“Lindy, you need to cry.”

The words seemed to come from a far distance, echoing around her in a canyon of despair. She dropped her hand and looked up to find Rush standing beside her.

“No,” she said forcefully. “I won’t.”

“Don’t let him do this to you.”

She tried to push Rush away, but her effort was puny and weak. “You don’t know anything,” she cried. “How could you?”

“I know what it is to hurt.”

“Not like this.” No one could ever hurt this much. No one.

“Listen to me,” he said, and his hands gripped her shoulders. But even his fingers were gentle when she wanted them to be hard and punishing. “Cry. Let it out before the grief strangles you.”

“No.” Still she resisted, wildly shaking her head. “No. I hate him. I hate him.”

“I know, honey. I know.”

The dam broke then, and the tears that had been pent up inside her soul, shoved down and ignored for so long, bled from her eyes. A low, mewing sound slid from the back of her throat, nearly choking her. Sobs overtook her, huge, oxygen-robbing sobs that shook her shoulders and made her breast heave.

Rush didn’t try to hold her and she was grateful because she couldn’t have borne being restrained. Unable to remain upright, she braced her back against the wall and slumped to the floor. She gently rocked back and forth, weeping bitterly for the innocence she had lost, and wailing for the love she had given so freely to a man who didn’t deserve it. She cried until there was nothing left inside her.

Lindy started to retch when her tears were spent, and she knew she was about to lose her dinner. Rush’s hand under her elbow helped her to an upright position and into the bathroom. He stood behind her as she leaned over the toilet. She thought she felt his hand on her back, but she couldn’t be sure.

When she was finished he handed her a damp washcloth. She held it to her face, letting the coolness soak away some of the terrible red heat. Her eyes burned like fire, her throat felt gritty and coarse, and her hands shook.

“Here.” Rush handed her a glass of water.

She felt an abundance of shame at having allowed him to see her like this, and worse, that he should be the one to take care of her. She sank to the edge of the tub, afraid her shaky legs could no longer support her.

“You’re going to be all right now,” Rush told her confidently. “It’s over.”

She couldn’t look at him but nodded because it seemed the right thing to do. Rush had no way of knowing what Paul had done to her. No way of knowing that the man she’d loved and planned to share her life with had married another woman while Lindy proudly wore his engagement ring. Rush Callaghan didn’t know a damn whit about shattered dreams or the pain of a broken heart. He would never allow himself to be hurt this way.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you into your room.”

She stood with his help, and he tucked his arm around her waist as he led her into her darkened bedroom. Gently he brushed the wet strands of hair from her face and lowered her onto the mattress in a sitting position.

“I trust you don’t need anyone to undress you.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“It’s a damn good thing,” he said, and there was more than a trace of a smile in his words.

He started to walk away from her but paused just before he reached the door, turning back to her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Lindy Kyle, and someday there’ll be a man who will love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

Her mother had said almost those identical words to her. At the time, Lindy hadn’t been ready to accept them; she wasn’t sure she could now. All through college there’d only been Paul. Every thought of the future had been linked with him. Every dream. Every ambition. She felt as if fate had sent her tumbling into oblivion, uncaring what ill fortune befell her.

But it wasn’t in her to argue with Rush. Instead she brought her feet up onto the bed and pressed her head against the feather pillow. Her eyes ached unmercifully and she closed them.

“Did you hear me?” Rush demanded softly.

She wanted to shake her head that she hadn’t, but there wasn’t enough spirit left in her to challenge him. “I’m too selfish to pine away for Paul Abrams,” she said, her soft voice trembling. “I’m not willing to be miserable any more.”

Her words seemed to please him. “You’re one hell of a woman, Lindy, and don’t you forget it.”

“Right.” She couldn’t contain the sarcasm. Although she kept her eyes closed, Lindy knew it was a long time before Rush left the doorway. His presence all but filled the room. Only when he’d slipped away did she feel comfortable enough to relax and sleep.

Lindy woke around two, her throat dry and scratchy. Her temples throbbed, and her eyes were red and swollen. She didn’t turn on any lights as she made her way into the kitchen, preferring the shield of darkness.

The drapes were open and the city lights flickered in the distance. Taking the cold glass of water and the aspirin with her, Lindy stood at the window and expelled her breath in a long sigh. She’d made such an idiot of herself in front of Rush. The thought of facing him in the morning was almost more than she could bear.

Fresh tears dampened her face at the memory of the humiliating way she’d sobbed and moaned and rocked with grief. She exhaled a quivering breath and brushed her cheeks free of moisture.

“It’s over, Lindy, there’s no need to cry anymore.”

She whirled around to discover Rush sitting in the darkened room, watching her.

“I’ll cry if I damn well please,” she hissed.

“There’s no need to now.”

Lord, she hated it when men thought they were so wonderfully logical. Everything seemed to be so cut-and-dried for them.

“Who made you king of the universe?”

He chuckled at that.

“I don’t find that the least bit amusing. I honestly want to know what makes you think you know so damn much about human nature that you can decree when enough tears have been shed?”

“I know.”

Lindy slapped her hand against her side in an action meant to reveal her disgust. “So the big lieutenant commander has spoken.” She whirled around and placed the water glass down with such force that the liquid sloshed over the sides.

“How could you possibly know about loving someone and then losing them? You can’t imagine what it’s like to have your heart ripped from your chest and be left with a gaping wound that refuses to heal.” She was yelling at him now, but not because she was angry. The memory of the way she’d broken down in front of him was more than embarrassing. Heated words were her only defense.

Rush was out of the chair so fast that it shocked her. He loomed at her side like a dragon, his jaw as tight and contorted as she’d ever seen it.

“I know more than I ever cared to.” Each word dripped with ice, his message clear.

They stood, their gazes locked in the moonlight, glaring at each other, refusing to look away. She saw his pain then, as raw and jagged as her own. His guard was down. He’d lowered it for her tonight when she’d spilled out her heart, leaving himself exposed and trapped in pain-filled memories.

“Rush,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched his shoulder, wanting to offer him comfort the way he had helped her. “I didn’t know.”

He reached for her then, crushing her in his arms, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He didn’t fill in the details. He didn’t need to.

Chapter 4

Lindy slept on the davenport across from Rush, but the sweet luxury of oblivion escaped him. Even now, hours later, he couldn’t forget the unselfconscious way she’d wrapped her arms around him and held him, her tears soaking through his shirt. Rush wasn’t sure who she was crying for anymore: him or her. It didn’t matter.

Her body felt unbelievably good against his own, and her warmth had chased away the arctic chill that had seemed to cut all the way through to the marrow of his bones. He didn’t like to think about Cheryl and rarely did these days. But somehow being a witness to Lindy’s anguish had brought the memory of his own bobbing uncontrollably to the surface of his mind. Like a cork, the remembrance of his love and foolishness had refused to sink, and he’d been left to deal with the pain that had suddenly seemed as fresh and real as it had been eight years ago.

The memory of Cheryl had weighed on him like a steel cloak, tormenting his heart and mind. He’d loved her with a love that was pure and innocent. A love so rare that he never hoped to feel such deep, heart-wrenching emotion again. Leaving her to go to sea had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. Every day of the tour he’d written to her, spilling out his heart. On payday he’d sent her every penny he could, living on a bare minimum himself because it was important to him that she have the things she needed.

When he’d reached home port, he couldn’t get off the aircraft carrier fast enough. After six months at sea, he was dying to hold her again, dying to love her. But she hadn’t been at the dock. Bitterly disappointed, the only thing Rush could reason was that she was ill. Well, he’d been partially right. Only her sickness was of the nine-month variety. From what he’d learned later, sweet innocent Cheryl had shacked up with another sailor a week after he’d left San Diego. She’d apparently hoped to pass the baby off as Rush’s. Rush, however, hadn’t needed a degree in math to calculate the dates.

It might have made things easier for him if they’d fought. He might have been able to release some of the bitter anguish he’d experienced over her infidelity. But instead he’d simply told her goodbye and walked away, the diamond engagement ring he’d intended to give her seeming to sear a hole through his palm.

In the weeks and months that followed, his mind played crazy tricks on him. He tried to convince himself the baby was his, although God knows it was impossible. He heard from a friend that Cheryl married some poor schmuck fresh out of officer training within a month after Rush had left her.

A couple of years later he’d run into her in a bar. Her big blue eyes had clouded with tears as she’d told him they’d let something good slip away. With a wedding band on her finger, she’d placed her hand high on his thigh and suggested they get together for old times’ sake. Rush had thought he was going to vomit, she repulsed him so completely.

He never saw her again, never wanted to. Cheryl had taught him valuable lessons, ones destined to last a lifetime. She’d destroyed a part of him that could never be resurrected.

The first faint light of dawn seeped into the sky, extinguishing the stars one by one, and still Rush couldn’t sleep. But the even meter of Lindy’s breathing as she lay sleeping on the sofa was a soothing balm and gradually he felt the rigid tension leave his limbs.

They’d sat for hours, his arm around her, her head nestled over his heart. Neither had spoken—or wanted to. It was a time to remember. A time to forget. When she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, he’d gently slipped free of her hold and lowered her head onto the sofa.

She was going to be all right now.

So was he.

* * *

Lindy squinted as the sun flooded the living room and seemed to rest, full force, on her face, disturbing her deep sleep. Her neck ached, and it was then that she realized that her only pillow had been the small flat decorative one from the couch. She felt disoriented until the memory of what had happened between her and Rush gushed through her mind like melting snow rushing down a mountainside during a spring thaw. She groaned and covered her face with her hands, embarrassed anew.

Slowly, almost against her will, she sat up and opened her eyes. She felt empty inside, depleted. Shaky.

A quick survey of the room told her Rush wasn’t anywhere in the immediate vicinity, and she sighed with relief.

Coming to her feet, she brushed the mussed dark hair away from her face and stumbled into the kitchen. The coffee was made and a note propped against the base of the machine. Lindy reached for the slip of paper and blinked several times in an effort to clear her vision. Rush had duty and wouldn’t be home until late afternoon.

Thank God.

She wasn’t up to confronting him. Not now, anyway. What could she possibly say to him after she’d stripped herself emotionally naked and exposed her soul? Lord, she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out later. Right now she wanted a hot bath and some breakfast, in that order.

By five that afternoon, she’d washed windows, baked a fresh apple pie and scrubbed the shower. Occupying herself with a dozen domestic tasks until she was forced into the inevitable confrontation with Rush.

She was frying pork chops for dinner when she heard the front door open, and she tensed, instantly filled with dread.

An awkward silence ensued when he stepped into the kitchen. Since she wasn’t sure how to begin, she glanced around nervously and offered him a falsely cheerful smile.

Rush was frowning and she watched as his gaze bounced around the apartment, growing darker and more irritated with each passing moment.

Despite her best efforts, Lindy felt completely unstrung, and still Rush just stood there, looking straight through her with those impassive blue eyes of his.

“I baked a pie.” It was an absurd thing to say, but Lindy was quickly losing a grip on her determination to be cheerful and pleasant.

“That’s not what I smell.”

Lindy saw him wrinkle up his nose a couple of times, sniffing. “What are you?” she asked, forcing a light laugh. “A bloodhound?”

Obstinately Rush refused to respond to her attempt at good humor. If anything, his face grew more marred by dark shadows and anger kindled in his eyes. “It smells like pine needles in here.”

“Oh.” Why, oh why, couldn’t he play her game? He had to know how difficult all this was for her. “I scrubbed down the cupboards. I think I was supposed to dilute the cleaner more than I did.”

Her back was braced against the counter, her fingers gripping the edge. She could feel a pulse come alive in her temple. She’d had all day to make up her mind what she was going to say to Rush, how she was going to act, but her conclusions had been vague and fearful. That was when she’d decided she wouldn’t utter a word about what had happened, praying he wouldn’t, either. She should have realized Rush wouldn’t let her forget it.

“You’ve been busy.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I decided to spruce up the place a bit.”

Her efforts didn’t appear to please him. Damn, but she wished he’d say or do something to help her. He had to know what she was going through.

“You said something about pork chops being your favorite dinner,” she offered next, almost desperate. All the while, her eyes pleaded with him. She’d just found her footing with this man, and now she was floundering again, her feet slipping out from under her every which way she turned.

“That was thoughtful.” Still he frowned, his brow crowding his eyes, darkening them all the more.

Lindy rushed to the stove and used a cooking fork to turn the sizzling meat. She dared not look at him, and when she spoke the words strangled her. “I wanted to thank you, I guess.”

“For what?”

Obviously Rush wasn’t going to exert the least bit of energy to help her. The stoic look of the wooden Indian was properly in place once more and she wanted to hate him for his ability to disguise his emotions so effortlessly.

“Lindy.”

She ignored him, flipping the frying meat when it was totally unnecessary.

“Lindy, turn around and look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Those pork chops are going to turn into rubber if you cook them much longer.”

Forcefully she turned off the burner and slapped the cooking fork on the stove top. “I could hate you for this,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

“Well don’t, because it isn’t any easier for me.”

Her chest was heaving with indignation when she slowly turned so that they faced each other once more. Nothing about him said he was the least bit uncomfortable. They could have been discussing the weather for all the reaction Rush revealed.

“Well?” she demanded, not having a single clue as to what he was thinking. He wore the hard mask of disciplined self-control, and she longed to slap it from his face.

“I’m embarrassed, too,” he admitted finally.

“You? Whatever for? I was the one who made a complete idiot of myself. I was the one who was wailing like a banshee.” She whipped the hair from her face. “What could you possibly have to be embarrassed about?”

He looked as if he were going to answer her, but Lindy wasn’t about to let him. An entire day of worry and frustration was banked against her fragile control.

“Why couldn’t you have let it drop?” she continued. “Trust me, I was willing to forget the entire incident. But, oh no, Mister Know-It-All has to rub my nose in it.”

The muscle in his clenched jaw leaped so hard his temple quivered, and a strange light flared in his eyes. “I didn’t want any pretense between us.”

Defiance and pride filled Lindy’s breast and her long nails threatened to snap as she continued to grip the countertop behind her. “I don’t, either,” she whispered after a moment, willing now to release her resentment and accept the wisdom of his words.

“I’d like us to be friends.”

She nodded, dropping her gaze to the freshly waxed kitchen floor. “Lord knows, I could use one.”

He smiled at that, and when she glanced up she noted that his eyes had softened perceptibly.

“How did you know apple pie is my favorite?”

Relaxing, Lindy returned his smile. “A fine naval officer like you should know the answer to that. Apple pie has to rank right up there with hot dogs and the American flag.”

They both laughed aloud then, but not because she’d been especially clever. The matter had been settled between them and they were on an even keel once more. They could be friends.

* * *

“Well, how do I look?” Lindy asked Rush Monday morning. She stood beside the kitchen table, where he sat reading the paper and drinking coffee. Her interview wasn’t scheduled until noon, but she’d been dressed and ready since eight, pacing the living room. Lord, he swore she’d straightened the same stack of magazines ten times.

“You’re going to do great.”

“You didn’t even look at me,” she accused, her hands clenched together in front of her. She was a picture of efficiency in her dark blue business suit, white blouse and navy pumps. If it were up to him, he would hire her on the spot.

“You look wonderful,” he said, meaning it. Too damn good for his own peace of mind, if the truth be known.

She checked her wristwatch and nibbled nervously on the corner of her bottom lip. “I think I’ll leave now.”

“Good idea.” To be truthful, he’d be glad to have her out of the apartment. But not because she was making a nuisance of herself. Oh sure, her pacing was beginning to get on his nerves, but far more profound than that—Lindy was beginning to get to him. Bad.

She reached for her purse. “I’ll see you later.”

“Break a leg, kid.”

“Thanks.”

Her quick smile ate like a sweet-tasting acid all the way through him. He’d been a fool to think their nonrelationship would fall neatly back into place after Friday night. He’d been a first-class idiot to believe they could just be friends. Oh, they were that all right, but God knew he hungered for more. Much more.

Rush’s breath escaped on a long, disgusted sigh as he pushed his coffee cup aside. Every time he looked at Lindy his body started to throb. It wasn’t even funny. In fact it was downright embarrassing.

He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest, trying to reason matters out. Lindy was years younger than he. Ten, at least. And she’d been hurt, the pain much too fresh for her to trust her feelings. To further complicate the situation, she was Steve Kyle’s little sister. Rush might be able to overlook the first stickler, but not the second or the third. Lindy was too vulnerable now, too susceptible. And Steve Kyle was much too good a friend to lose because Rush couldn’t maintain his self-control.

Lord, he wished she’d get that damn job and move out of the apartment. And out of his life. Once she’d cleared out, maybe things would go back to normal and he could concentrate on matters that were important to him.

That wasn’t true, Rush admitted even as he thought it. He liked having Lindy around, liked her being there when he came in after a frustrating day aboard the Mitchell. Liked talking to her in the evenings. That was the problem in a nutshell. He liked every damn thing there was about Lindy Kyle.

Rush was mature enough, disciplined enough, to ignore the physical attraction, although God knows it was difficult. A thousand times he’d cursed the memory of that morning when he had found her in the bathroom, and seen her all soft and feminine. His mental picture of the way her breasts had peeped out at him, firm and round and proud, had the power, even now, to eat a hole straight through his mind. For his own sense of well-being he couldn’t allow his thoughts to dwell on how good she’d felt in his arms, or how she’d fallen asleep with her head resting securely over his heart. Nor did he choose to think about how he’d sat and stroked her hair, drinking in her softness, marveling in her gentleness.

Lindy’s allure, however, was much more profound than the physical. In the space of one week she’d managed to reach into his heart, dragging the emotion out of him like hidden scarves from the sleeves of a clown. Each one more colorful than the last. Each one a surprise. Lindy made him feel vulnerable, threatening him in ways he’d never expected to experience again.

He wanted to stay away from her, avoid her as he had in the beginning. But Lindy was like a magnetic field that drew everything to itself. He couldn’t be anywhere near her and not want her. Physically. Emotionally. Every damn way there was to want a woman.

He stood then, determined not to think about her anymore. A cold shower was what he needed to wake him up to a few fundamental facts. He wasn’t an inexperienced youth, unable to control himself. Rush had been around the block more times than he cared to count.

With a fresh set of clothes, he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. He hesitated, closed his eyes and slumped against the side of the sink. Inhaling the faint flower scent of Lindy’s perfume, he released a groan that came from deep within his chest. The fragrance wove its way around him like an early morning mist, tempting him, enticing him, reminding him of everything he swore he was going to forget.

With his jaw knotted so tight his teeth hurt, Rush reached for the shower dial and turned it on full force. Grimly he wondered how much cold water it would take to distract him from the ache in his groin.

* * *

“Rush.” Lindy threw open the front door of the apartment. “I got the job.” Filled with joyous excitement, she tossed her purse aside and whirled around the living room like a ballerina, her arms clenched tightly over her breasts.

She was so dizzy she nearly stumbled, but she didn’t care. Breathless and laughing, she stopped and braced her hand along the back of the sofa. “Oh, come on, Rush, you’ve got to be home!”

A quick check of the rooms told her he wasn’t. The minute she’d been free, Lindy had hurried out of the Boeing offices, dying to tell Rush that the job was hers. The money was great. More than great. Wonderful. Health insurance, paid vacations, sick leave. And ten days off at Christmas. The whole nine yards—or was that ten? She didn’t know. What she did know was that this wonderful, fabulous job was hers.

She couldn’t have asked for a better position. The woman who would be her supervisor had taken Lindy around to meet her co-workers and everyone had been so nice, so friendly. Lindy had known almost immediately that she was going to fit right in.

“Rush,” she called out again, in case she’d missed him somehow.

His name fell emptily into the silence. Oh well, he’d hear her good news soon enough. She went into her bedroom and changed into jeans and a soft pink ten-button Henley shirt, pushing the three-quarter length sleeves up past her elbows. She reached for her purse and as an afterthought scribbled Rush a note that said she was going out to buy thick T-bones, and when she got back they would celebrate.

By the time Lindy returned from the Pike Place Market, Rush was on the lanai and the barbecue was smoking.

“Hi,” she called out, and set the grocery bag on the counter. “I got the job.”

“I didn’t doubt for a minute that you would.”

Rush looked wonderfully relaxed in casual slacks and a light blue sweater that set off the color of his eyes to a clear cornflower blue. The sun glinted through his dark hair, and when he turned to smile at her, his face fairly danced with happy mischief, as if he’d known all along she’d do well and was as pleased as she that she had gotten the job. And exceedingly proud.

“Well, you might have shared some of that confidence with me,” Lindy told him with mock disgust. “In case you didn’t notice, I was a wreck this morning. Imagine leaving two hours before an interview.” She could chide herself about it now, but she’d felt as if an army of red ants had decided to use her stomach as a place to dig their farm.

“I was confident enough to buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate,” he informed her, moving into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He brought out the bottle and set it on the counter with all the ceremony and flair of a wine steward.

“Oh Rush, we can’t drink this,” she whispered, reverently examining the bottle. This wasn’t the normal cheap champagne Lindy was used to drinking at Christmastime, but an expensive French variety, decorated with a gold seal and a fancy blue ribbon.

“Why not?” His brows shot up.

“It’s too good…. I mean, I can’t even pronounce the name of it.” She tried, her tongue stumbling over the French vowels. In high school she’d taken a couple of years of the language, but she could never be considered fluent.

“You can’t say champagne?” His voice dipped with sarcasm while tiny pinpricks of light shimmered in the depths of his eyes.

“Oh stop. You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

Already he’d peeled away the decorative top foil. “If anyone has reason to celebrate, it’s you.”

Lindy sighed and nodded, utterly content. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am.”

“You don’t need to,” he teased. “Anyone within a five-block radius could feel your happiness.” His gaze held hers briefly before he dragged it away and started working to remove the cork.

Lindy felt strangely breathless and dizzy with joy. She was truly happy, when only a few weeks before she’d doubted that she’d ever experience elation or excitement again. Now she felt as though destiny had finally caught up with her again, and she was riding the crest of a wave, surging ahead, grabbing at every good thing that came her way. And lately, since she’d met Rush, there seemed to be so much to feel good about.

The sound of the cork popping and the bubbly liquid spraying into the sink caused Lindy to gasp, then giggle.

“Here, here,” she cried, handing Rush one of the tall narrow glasses he’d set out. She didn’t want any of this precious liquid to be wasted. God only knew how much Rush had paid for the bottle.

“A toast,” Rush said, handing her a glass and taking his own. Tiny golden bubbles popped to the surface as if to add their own congratulations. “To Lindy Kyle, computer expert,” Rush murmured, completely serious.

“I’m not really an expert.”

“Are you always this argumentative, woman?”

“All right, all right,” she laughed and licked the moisture from her fingertips. “IBM owes everything to me. Mr. Wang himself calls me his friend.” Her eyes were laughing, her joy and enthusiasm exuding with every breath, because it was impossible to contain them.

“Mr. Wang?” Rush asked her. “What about Mr. Callaghan? Is he your friend?”

“Oh most assuredly. The very best kind there is.”

“Good.”

Lindy thought his voice sounded slightly husky, pleased, but before she had time to analyze it or study him further, Rush poised his glass next to hers. Gently they tapped the delicate rims together and Lindy tasted a sample. The smooth liquid was wonderfully light and mellow and so delicious that she closed her eyes to properly savor it.

“This is marvelous stuff,” she said, taking another sip.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I bought us steaks,” she said, suddenly remembering the sack. “And enough vegetables to open our own fifty-item salad bar.”

Rush chuckled. “You get the salad together and I’ll manage the steaks.”

“That sounds like a workable plan.”

“Good grief,” he chided, unwrapping the thick T-bones from the white butcher paper. “You’re already using office lingo.”

Lindy resisted the urge to swat his backside as he returned to the lanai, and turned her attention to the variety of fresh vegetables for the salad.

She finished before Rush did, and taking her champagne glass with her, joined him outside. It had rained for part of the week, but the sun was out this afternoon and the breeze was fresh and clean.

“The coals aren’t quite hot enough yet,” he told her, leaning against the wrought-iron railing, looking at ease with himself and his world.

Perhaps it was the champagne or the fact she’d stood too long in the sun. Lindy wasn’t sure which to blame. But standing beside Rush she suddenly felt the overwhelming need to have him kiss her, the overpowering desire to glide her moist lips back and forth over his and taste the champagne on his tongue.

“Lindy?” He was frowning at her, and for a moment she was sure he’d read her thoughts. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head for emphasis, pushing down the impulse. It was insane, stupid, wrong. And yet something kept driving her. Something primitive and completely unmanageable. Before she could change her mind, she took both their wineglasses and set them aside, her hands shaking.

Rush watched her like a man in a trance.

She leaned forward and planted her hands on his shoulders, her intense gaze holding his.

At her touch, she felt a quiver work its way through his lean, hard body. He stiffened, his shoulders at attention as though a visiting admiral were passing by for inspection. But still he didn’t try to stop her, didn’t gently push her away as she thought he might. His hands bunched into tight fists at his sides.

Filled with purpose, and more determined than she had been about anything in a long time, Lindy stood on tiptoe and briefly touched her lips to his.

It was better than she’d thought, better than she’d dreamed. She cocked her head so their noses wouldn’t present a barrier and kissed him again. Lightly. Tentatively. Shyly.

Rush stood stiff and motionless, but a low moan slipped from deep within his throat. His dark eyebrows cramped his piercing blue eyes, and he glared at her. If he hoped to intimidate her with a look, he failed. Lindy felt incredibly brave, ready to take on a fully armed armada if need be. Surely managing one weary sailor wouldn’t be so difficult.

Rush closed his eyes then opened them, searching her face, his look tormented. He seemed to be telling Lindy to stop. Begging her to move away from him because he hadn’t the will to move himself. But Lindy had no intention of following his silent demand. None. Instead she smiled boldly up at him, her heart in her eyes.

Rush claimed her lips then, and groaned anew as if holding her were the last thing in the world he wanted to do. His mouth clung to hers, warm and demanding as his tongue plundered the dark, sweet secret of her mouth, taking all that she offered.

His hands pulled her tight against him and he continued to kiss her again and again until she was flushed and trembling and her blood felt as if it could boil.

“Oh God, Lindy. No. No. This isn’t right.” His voice was tortured and barely audible. But still he didn’t release her.

Chapter 5

Rush’s face was hard. Harder than at any time Lindy could remember. His eyebrows were pulled down over his eyes, which were busily searching her face, seeking answers she couldn’t give him.

Gently, his hands at her waist, he broke her hold on him and turned away, but not too far, because she was able to view his profile in the afternoon sunlight. He sucked in a giant breath and savagely jerked his fingers through his hair, his face dark and ravaged with what looked like guilt and regret.

“Rush,” she whispered. “Listen….”

“No, you listen….”

The same mindless force that had driven her to kiss him led her now, and she moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and fiercely hugging his back. She could feel the coiled resistance in him, but refused to release him.

“Lindy, damn it, you’re not making this easy.” His hands moved to break her hold and release himself from the trap of her arms.

At least Lindy thought that was his intent. But instead his fingers closed over her knuckles, squeezing her hands together with such force she nearly gasped with pain. But when his hand touched hers something seemed to snap inside him and he relaxed, causing her to melt all the more intimately against him.

She was shocked by how good Rush’s body felt. He was tall and lean and hard and he stirred some inherent need in her.

An eternity passed before either moved. They hardly seemed to breathe. Lindy would have held onto Rush until the Second Coming if he hadn’t broken free of her clasp and moved away from her. His breath was choppy then, as though it had cost him a great deal to leave her arms. His intense blue eyes stubbornly avoided hers.

“I think it would be best if we forget that ever happened,” he said gruffly, and seemed to be engrossed in placing the steaks on the barbecue.

“I’m not going to forget it.” Lindy didn’t know why she felt she had to argue with him, but she did. “I thought you were the one who was so keen on us being honest with each other.”

“This is different.” He shook enough salt over the meat to preserve it into the next generation. Pepper and garlic powder followed, so thick they practically obliterated the juicy T-bones.

“You said it was important there be no pretense between us,” she pressed. “And you’re right.”

“Damn it, Lindy. Just what the hell do you want from me?” He remained hunched over the barbecue, refusing to meet her eyes. “Do you want me to tell you I find you attractive? Fine. You turn me on. I hope to hell you’re satisfied now.”

She couldn’t have stopped the spontaneous smile that joyously sprang over her face had their lives depended on it. Just knowing Rush was attracted to her gave Lindy a giddy sense of power.

“I find you appealing, too,” she admitted, having trouble keeping the elation out of her voice. Actually that was a gross understatement. She was drawn to Rush the way a thirsty flower is to rain.

“Well, you shouldn’t, because…” he paused and forcefully exhaled a breath, looking both angry and confused.

Lindy’s heart thudded expectantly. “Why not? Is it so wrong?”

Rush rose slowly to his feet then, faced her and placed his hands on her shoulders in a brotherly fashion, his eyes clear. Determined.

“Lindy, listen to me. You’ve been badly hurt recently. Devastated by a man you loved and trusted, and now everything seems to have turned around. You’ve got a reason to be happy, to celebrate. But my being here is much too convenient. It’s only natural that you feel attracted to me, living at close quarters the way we do. You’re a young, passionate woman, filled with the love of life and…you’re excited now. I don’t blame you, especially after everything you’ve been through. Your pride suffered a major setback not so long ago, and here I am like a savior, the means of salvaging it all.”

“Rush…no.”

“But Lindy,” he continued, unwilling to let her cut him off, “you’re too vulnerable right now. The attraction you feel toward me is only natural under the circumstances. But you’ve got to understand something important here. Given the same situation, you’d experience these identical emotions toward any healthy, red-blooded male. It’s not really me who appeals to you, it’s the thought of another close relationship.”

“You can’t honestly believe that. Why, that’s ridiculous, Rush Callaghan.”

“No, it isn’t. Think about it, Lindy. Think hard. You want a man tonight.” His voice was rough with intensity. “I can understand your feelings, sympathize with what’s happened to you, but making love wouldn’t be right. I’m not the one for this, and I refuse to take advantage of you. Find someone else to build your ego.”

“I find that insulting,” she told him earnestly, but without anger. She had thought he might try to avoid her by starting an argument, and she refused to swallow the bait, no matter how much he irritated her.

“I’m not saying this to offend you. You’re the one who insisted upon honesty. You got it.” He returned to the steaks, as calmly as if they’d been discussing something as mundane as stock prices or the outcome of a baseball game.

“You’re making this difficult,” she said next.

“I plan to make it impossible.”

“Honestly, Rush. Would you stop handling me with kid gloves? I’m a woman.”

“Honey, that’s one thing you won’t find me arguing about.” His words were followed by a harsh chuckle. “Now, come on. Be a good little girl and eat your steak.”

* * *

The dishwasher was whirling softly in the background when Lindy reached for the telephone a couple of hours later. As soon as their meal had been completed, Rush had left her without so much as a word to tell her where he was going or when he intended to come back. The bloody coward!

“Hi, Mom,” Lindy said when her mother picked up the receiver on the third ring.

“Lindy, sweetheart, is everything all right?”

“It’s wonderful. I got a job with Boeing and start first thing in the morning.”

“That’s terrific.”

Lindy could hear the relief in her mother’s voice, and smiled, remembering again how great she’d felt when the personnel director had offered her the job.

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t be more pleased. I knew everything would work out, given time.”

“I have more good news.”

“More?” her mother said, and laughed softly.

“I’ve met someone.”

“You have?” The question was followed by a brief, strained silence. “Isn’t this rather sudden?”

Lindy could all but hear the excitement drain out of Grace Kyle’s voice to be replaced by weary doubt. “Now, before you say anything, let me tell you something about him. He’s wonderful, Mom, really wonderful. He’s helped me so much, I can’t even begin to tell you everything he’s done for me. He’s a good, kind person. Honorable.”

“Oh, Lindy,” her mother said with a sigh, “do be careful.”

“I will, Mom. I promise.” The comedy of the situation struck her then, and she started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Her mother obviously hadn’t stopped to think things through.

“Mom, I’m twenty-two years old and when I told you that I’d met someone, you said I should be careful, like I was seven years old again and about to cross a busy street alone for the first time.”

“But, Lindy, you’re hardly over—” Grace paused and exhaled a disgusted, uneven breath. “I refuse to even mention his name.”

“Paul.” Lindy said it for her. “He can’t hurt me anymore. I refuse to let him.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart. Now tell me—where did you meet this young man you think so highly of?”

Lindy gnawed on her lower lip. Explaining her living arrangements to her mother would surely be cause for concern, but Lindy wasn’t in the habit of lying. “I met him a few days after I arrived in Seattle.”

“Oh. And what’s his family like?”

“Mom, we’ve only known each other a little while. I haven’t met his family.”

“But I think you should find out about them, don’t you?”

“I suppose. In time. Listen, Mom, I just wanted to call and let you know that everything is going terrific. I’ve got a good job and I couldn’t be happier. Really.”

“I’m so pleased for you.”

“I know. I feel good about everything, and I don’t want you to worry about me anymore because nothing’s going to hold me down again.”

“I knew you’d find your footing, given time.”

“I have, Mom.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

“’Bye, Mom. Give my love to Dad.”

“I will.”

Lindy thought she heard a trace of tears in her mother’s soft voice when she replaced the receiver. She was surprised to note there was a hint in her own.

With Rush gone, the apartment felt like an empty tomb and the evening dragged by. Lindy watched television for a while, worked a crossword puzzle and added an extra coat of pink polish to her nails. By eleven she was tired and ready to give up her vigil. Rush had been determined to get away from her, to leave her alone to recognize the foolishness of her actions. She knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he’d announced his intentions. Only it hadn’t worked. If anything, Lindy was more determined than ever to get him to face the truth of what was happening between them.

Discouraged, she undressed and climbed between the cool sheets. But sleep wouldn’t come. Instead all she could think about was how good it had felt to be in Rush’s arms. How good and how remarkably right.

She recognized there was some validity to what he’d claimed. But he was wrong to think she was using him. The feelings she had for Rush had absolutely nothing to do with what had happened with Paul. The attraction she felt for Rush was because of who he was. She’d meant every word she’d said to her mother. Rush Callaghan was an honorable man, and there seemed to be few enough of them left.

Rush had given her a priceless gift. Her freedom. His patience and tenderness had released her from the shackles of pain and remorse. He’d held her hand and shown her the way out of the dark shadows. He’d led her gently into the warm healing glow of a summer sun.

If he were with her now, discussing matters the way he should be, Lindy knew exactly what he’d say to her. He’d tell her she was grateful. She was, but it was far more than gratitude she felt toward Rush. He’d taken her wounded heart and breathed new life into it. He’d let her feel again when her every nerve ending had been numb, and her very existence had seemed pointless.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she’d felt in his arms, her breasts flattened against his broad chest, her nipples hard and erect. Just the memory was enough to stir her senses back to life. That brief time with Rush had produced an incredible range of new awarenesses. His kiss had been warm and tender, his lips lingering over hers as though this moment and place were out of time and meant for them alone.

His tender touch had brought with it the sweetest, most terrible yearning to be loved by him. Completely. Totally. Lindy didn’t need anyone to tell her that when Rush Callaghan gave his heart to a woman, she would be the most incredibly fortunate female alive.

Lindy had just begun to scratch the surface of his multifaceted personality. Over the years, Rush had built several thick protective layers around himself, and Lindy had only managed to peel away the top few, to gain a peek inside. But she believed with all her heart that underneath he was sensitive and strong, daring and bold, and yet in some ways almost shy.

In time, Rush would realize she knew her own mind—and her own heart. In no way was she rebounding from Paul. Her former fiancé had actually done her a big favor, although it had been difficult to recognize it at the time. Paul was weak. Blinded by her love, she hadn’t seen it before. Paul didn’t possess the principles Rush did, either. Rush, on the other hand, was noble, reliable and completely trustworthy. Lindy would stake her life on it. Her judgment had been poor once, but she’d learned something from Paul, and although the lesson had been bitterly painful, she’d been an apt student. She knew an honorable man when she saw one. And Rush Callaghan fit her definition to a T.

Still awake at midnight, Lindy bunched her pillow in half and rolled onto her stomach. She might as well climb out of bed and wait for him as toss and turn all night. She’d no sooner made the decision to get up when she heard the front door open.

Relieved, Lindy smiled and eagerly threw aside the blankets. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe and headed out her bedroom door, impatient to talk to him.

Rush was just coming down the hallway.

“You’re home,” she greeted, not even trying to disguise her pleasure. It wasn’t one of her most brilliant statements, but she didn’t care.

He grumbled something that she couldn’t make sense of.

“You didn’t need to leave, you know.”

“Yes, I did.” He kept as far away from her as space would allow.

“Rush, we need to talk.”

“Not now.”

“Yes, now,” she insisted.

“You have to go to work in the morning. Remember?” he argued, and rubbed his hand wearily over the back of his neck. “And for that matter so do I.”

Lindy took a step toward him, and stopped. The cloying scents of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke clung to him like the stench of an infection. Shocked, Lindy tensed and braced herself against the wall to avoid getting any closer to him than necessary. She felt as though he’d driven a stake through her heart, so violent was the rush of pain. Rush had left her arms, scoffed at her timid efforts at lovemaking and gone to another. Someone with far more experience than she.

She glared at him through wide, angry eyes. “You’re disgusting.” She spat the words vengefully with all the vehemence her heart could muster. Then she whirled around and returned to her room, slamming the door with such force that the picture of her family on the dresser tumbled to the carpet.

Rush didn’t bother to follow her and Lindy was glad.

She was trembling uncontrollably when she sank onto the edge of her mattress. The honorable man she’d been so willing to place on a pedestal possessed clay feet. Clay feet and a clay heart.

Lindy may have slept at some time during the long night that followed, but she doubted it. She was so furious she couldn’t allow herself to relax enough to sleep. She had no hold on Rush, she realized. There was no commitment between them. A few kisses were all they’d ever shared, and yet she wanted to throttle him.

Apparently she wasn’t as apt a student as she’d thought, and she didn’t know which had disappointed her more—Rush’s behavior or her own inability to judge men.

* * *

Rush heard Lindy tossing and turning in her room long after he’d retired to his own room. He knew what she believed and had purposely let her go on thinking it, hoping she’d forget this silly notion about letting a romance develop between them. That had been his original intention. But when he’d seen the flash of pain in her eyes, he knew he couldn’t go through with it. Unfortunately Lindy wasn’t in any mood to carry on a levelheaded conversation, he’d decided. He’d explain things in the morning.

Rush had gotten out of the apartment as soon as he could following dinner, afraid of what might happen if he stayed. The truth of the matter was that it had taken every damn bit of restraint he’d possessed to walk away from Lindy. The cold beer he had nursed in a sleazy waterfront bar was small compensation for his considerable sacrifice.

His biggest problem was that he believed every word he’d said to Lindy. She was vulnerable right now. Vulnerable and trusting. A lethal combination as far as Rush was concerned. If he loved her the way she wanted, she’d wake in the morning filled with regrets. Rush couldn’t do that to her. Hell, if he was honest, he couldn’t do it to himself. He wasn’t so much a fool not to recognize that loving Lindy once would never be enough. A sample would only create the need for more. Much more.

The simple act of kissing and holding her had nearly defeated him. When she’d leaned up and brushed her lips over his, his body had fired to life with a heat that had threatened to consume him. It had demanded every part of his considerable self-control not to lift her into his arms and carry her into his bedroom.

The sweet little witch must have known it, too. She’d pressed her softness against him, fully conscious of what the intimacy was doing to him. And then she’d paused and looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting and filled with such delectable love that it was more than a mere man could resist. He’d kissed her until he’d felt her weak and trembling in his arms. He had no idea what had stopped him then, but whatever it was, he was grateful.

Escape had been his only alternative, and he’d left the apartment when he could. He didn’t want to be in the bar, but after a brisk walk there hadn’t been anyplace else he knew to go. A woman who often loitered there had strolled up to his table, sat down without an invitation and tried to start a conversation. Rush had glared at her and told her wasn’t in the mood for company. Apparently she’d taken his words as a challenge and before he could stop her, her arms were all over him.

Rush didn’t realize the scent of her sickeningly sweet perfume had stayed with him until he saw Lindy’s look of complete disgust.

He was going to settle that matter first thing in the morning.

* * *

It was with a sense of righteousness that Lindy snapped a rock-music tape into her cassette player and turned it up full blast. Tapping her foot to the loud music, she wove the hot curling iron through her hair and waited. Within a couple of minutes, Rush staggered into the bathroom, apparently having just awakened, looking as if he intended to hurl her portable stereo out the living room window.

“Is that really necessary?” he shouted.

With deliberately slow movements Lindy turned down the volume. She regarded him with wide, innocent eyes. “What did you say?”

“Is that god-awful music necessary?”

It gave her a good deal of pleasure to smile sweetly back at him and ask, “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, Rush.”

“I’ll bet,” he grumbled and turned to stumble back to his room.

Lindy loved it.

Her sense of timing couldn’t have been more perfect some time later when they met again in the kitchen. He grumbled something that sounded faintly like a plea for coffee. He had just gotten down a mug and started to pour himself a cup when she switched on the blender full blast. Hot coffee splattered over the counter and Rush jumped back, cursing savagely.

He whirled around to face her and once more Lindy gave him her brightest smile. She finished her task and asked, “Would you like some orange juice?”

“No,” he grumbled.

She swallowed a laugh and with a good deal of ceremony, poured herself a glass.

Rush was studying her with a tight frown. “Now I know what they mean when they say ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”’

Lindy gave him a vague look. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell,” he exploded. “Exactly how long is it going to take you to properly mete out justice?”

“Rush, I think you got out of the wrong side of bed this morning. You seem to be imagining all sorts of things. What could I possibly be angry about?” Already she was feeling better. Okay, so maybe her revenge was a tad childish, but Rush deserved everything he got—in triplicate.

“Damn it, Lindy. You’ve got the wrong idea here.”

“Wrong idea about what?” She batted her thick lashes a couple of times for effect and had the satisfaction of seeing him clench his jaw. From experience Lindy knew mornings had never been Rush’s favorite time of day. He looked disoriented, out of sorts and more than a little lost in knowing how to deal with her. As far as Lindy was concerned, Rush’s confusion was poetic justice.

“While I’m still alive and breathing,” he managed, “I think you’d better know there’s been a minor misunderstanding here.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she returned, her look as earnest as she could make it and still hold back her amusement.

His hand slammed against the counter. “And I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about,” he countered, unable to restrain his fury. “You’ve tried and convicted me without knowing the details.”

The particulars were the last thing Lindy wanted to hear.

“Spare me, please,” she told him, the amusement of her game vanishing. “You can sleep with a harem for all I care.” It astonished her how easily the lie slipped from her lips. Rarely had she been more bitterly disappointed in anyone than she had been in Rush.

“Lindy…”

She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “I wish I had more time to sort this out,” she lied again, but not as smoothly this time. “But in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got a job to go to.”

She walked away from him and was already in the living room when she paused to add, “You were right about one thing, though. I’m not ready for another relationship.” She turned to face him then. “You don’t need to worry about trying to clear the air. I understand, Rush, far better than you know.”

His eyes held hers and a strong current of energy passed between them. As always she could read little in his impassive expression. But he must have agreed with her because he said nothing, and she hurriedly walked away, eager to escape.

It was while she was brushing her teeth that a sheen of tears brightened her eyes. After everything that had happened to her, it was a surprise. She’d assumed she had more control of her emotions than this; she blamed the tears on lack of sleep.

With her purse in her hand she headed for the front door. She’d learned several lessons in the past few months, but they didn’t seem to be getting any easier.

Walking down the hallway, she was forced to pass Rush, who was sitting on the sofa in the living room. She forced a smile and squared her shoulders, prepared to move past him with her head high.

Just as she reached him, Rush’s arm reached out, grabbed her hand and stopped her cold. His eyes held her more tightly than any vise.

“I won’t have you face your first day on the job with doubts. There was no one last night, Lindy. No one but you.”

She blinked back the surprise and uncertainty, not sure what to believe. The evidence had reeked from him.

Rush tugged at her arm, bringing her closer. When she was within easy reach, he wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her down onto his lap. She landed there with a plop. His hands found their way to her face and he turned her head so her unwilling gaze was forced to meet his.

“I can’t let you go on thinking I could’ve touched another woman after kissing you.” His eyes filled with an emotion so powerful that Lindy couldn’t speak. Gone was the mask—lowered or destroyed, she didn’t know which—and what she saw in his wonderful eyes gave flight to her heart. His look was innocent, youthful almost. Seeking. He needed her to believe him, was pleading with her in a way she knew was foreign to this proud man.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she nodded, silently telling him that she trusted his word.

The pad of his thumb wiped the moisture from the high arch of her cheek.

“Damn it, Lindy. We’re in one fine mess here,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “I want you like hell. What are we going to do?” His warm mouth, only inches from hers, brushed lightly over her parted lips.

Lindy just managed to stifle a groan and kissed him back softly, her mouth lingering over his own, needing his warmth.

By this time he’d wrapped her in his embrace. As though they had all the time in the world, Rush brought her lips down to his own with an agonizing slowness. The kiss was filled with such aching tenderness, such sweet torment that the fresh tears rolled unheeded down the side of her face.

“I should have trusted you,” she told him brokenly. “I should have known.”

“Lindy…don’t cry, please. It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.” He pulled her more completely into his embrace and held her tightly.

The memory of his look when he’d stumbled into the bathroom caused her to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Honey…please. I can’t bear the thought that I’ve made you cry. You are crying, aren’t you?”

Lindy laughed aloud, then sobbed. She reached for his hand to kiss his knuckles. “Did you burn yourself when you spilled the coffee?”

He looked at her as though they should give serious consideration to having her committed to a mental facility. “No,” he said tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him, spreading kisses over the edge of his jaw. “Oh, Rush, I thought horrible things of you. I thought—”

“I can guess,” he muttered, cutting her off.

“But you’re good and honorable and I was so wrong.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “If you had a hint of what I was thinking of doing right now, you’d amend the honorable portion.”

It was difficult to read his expression, but what she saw there caused her to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him with a hunger that left them both shaking.

“Shall I tell you what I’m thinking, Rush Callaghan?”

Chapter 6

“Rush, guess what?” Breathless with excitement, Lindy let herself into the apartment and stopped abruptly, swallowing the remainder of her good news. Another man was standing next to Rush, and it looked as though the two had been arguing, or at least heatedly discussing something.

For the first time in recent memory, Rush didn’t look pleased to see her. Apparently she’d arrived at the worst possible time. Her dark eyes met his and she offered a silent apology. His brief smile both reassured and warmed her.

After an awkward moment, Rush stepped forward. “Lindy, this is Jeff Dwyer. Jeff, this is Lindy Kyle, Steve Kyle’s little sister.”

Jeff resembled a fat cat who had just been presented with a pitcher of rich cream. The corners of his mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile, and his eyes fairly danced with mischief and delight. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you, Lindy.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze moved from Rush to Jeff and then back to Rush, who gave her a fleeting smile that revealed his chagrin. He wasn’t overly pleased about something, but he wasn’t angry, either.

“Since Rush didn’t bother to explain, I will,” Jeff went on to say. “We’re both officers aboard the Mitchell. Rush and I’ve worked together for the past four years.” He hesitated and rubbed the side of his jaw. “Until recently I thought I knew everything there was about my fellow officer, but I guess I was wrong.”

Rush placed his hands in his pants pockets, ignoring the comment. “Jeff and his wife Susan are visiting downtown Seattle this afternoon.”

Jeff couldn’t have looked more pleased. Lindy didn’t know what was happening between the two men, but she’d apparently loused things up for Rush.

“Sue’s having the twins’ pictures taken at one of those fancy studios,” Jeff continued. “She didn’t seem to need me, so I thought I’d stop off and see my good buddy Rush.”

Lindy nodded, not knowing how else to respond.

“How long have you—ah, been living here?” Jeff asked.

Unsure, Lindy’s gaze sought Rush’s.

“It’s not what you’re implying, Jeff.” Rush’s frown was fierce as he glared at his friend. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time, I’ll say it once more. Lindy is Steve Kyle’s little sister.”

Again the edges of the other man’s mouth moved spastically. Jeff looked to be exerting a good deal of effort to hold back his amusement. The more pleased the other man’s look became, the darker Rush’s frown grew.

“I heard you,” Jeff said.

“Isn’t it about time for you to pick up Susan and the kids?” Rush asked in an emotionless tone that was devoid of humor.

Jeff made a show of looking at his wristwatch. “I suppose,” he admitted reluctantly. His gaze drifted to Lindy. “It was a pleasure to meet you. A real pleasure. Next time, I’ll bring Sue along.”

“I’d like that.”

Rush was already standing next to the front door when Jeff left her. Lindy could vaguely hear the two exchange farewells followed by a couple of heated whispers.

“What was that all about?” she asked, once Rush had returned.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that, Rush Callaghan. I know better.”

He lapsed into silence for a moment. “Jeff came over to investigate a suspicion.”

“Oh?”

“How did your day go?”

His effort to change the subject wasn’t subtle, but Lindy could tell pressuring him to explain what had been going on between him and Jeff Dwyer wouldn’t do her any good.

“Oh,” she said, her eyes rounding with excitement. “I nearly forgot.” Her hands eagerly started digging through her purse, tossing aside her compact and eel-skin wallet in her rush. Triumphantly she held up two tickets. “I got box seats for the Mariners’ game tonight.” When Rush just stood there staring at her, she blinked back her disappointment. She’d hoped he’d be as enthusiastic about attending the game as she was. “You do like baseball, don’t you?”

His nod was decidedly absent. “Box seats?”

“On the one-hundred level. A girl I work with got them through the office. She can’t go tonight, and asked if I could use them.” Lindy had been so eager she could hardly make it back to the apartment fast enough, convinced Rush would want to see the Mariners play as much as she did. But looking at him now, she wasn’t sure what to think. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded, a little piqued.

“Like what?”

“Like that…. Just now.”

He shrugged. “I was just thinking about something Jeff said. I’m sorry. Did you say something I missed?”

Slowly Lindy shook her head. He hadn’t told her any part of his conversation with his friend, and Lindy knew it would be useless to even try to get him to discuss the details with her.

“Do you want to go to the game or would you rather skip the whole thing?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she was really hoping Rush would want to attend the game.

“The game, of course. Don’t you think you’d better change clothes? Starting time is in another forty-five minutes.”

“Right.” Still confused, Lindy moved down the hallway to her bedroom. She didn’t know what to make of Rush today. They’d been getting along so well lately, spending as much time together as possible, cramming all they could into the days and nights before the Mitchell left.

In three days they’d done something together every night. Tuesday he’d taken her to the Woodland Park Zoo, and they’d fed peanuts to the elephants and been splashed while watching the playful antics of the seals. Wednesday they’d gone on a picnic on the shores of Lake Washington, where Rush had lain on the sweet-scented lawn, resting his head on her thigh while he nibbled on a long blade of grass. Thursday they’d eaten fish and chips on the waterfront and strolled hand in hand in and out of the tourist shops that dotted the wharf. Each night they’d laughed and joked and talked freely. And each night Rush had kissed her. Once. And only once. As though anything more would be too much temptation for him to handle. Rush treated her with kid gloves, touching her as if he were handling live ammunition. His kiss was always gentle, always controlled—too controlled to suit Lindy. If she hadn’t felt the soul-wrenching reluctance and regret in every part of him when he gently left her arms, she would have been deeply discouraged.

Lindy knew that Rush was having problems dealing with the emotions she aroused in him. He didn’t trust their attraction. Didn’t trust her, believing she couldn’t possibly know her own heart so soon after Paul. And perhaps, Lindy realized, Rush didn’t trust himself. He’d certainly gone out of his way to behave like an endearing older brother—except when he lowered his guard just a little each night to kiss her. He wanted her. He’d told her as much, and she wanted him. But the time for them wasn’t right.

As fast as she could Lindy changed out of her work clothes and rejoined Rush in the kitchen, prepared to hurry to the baseball game. He took one look at her and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. I thought you said we were going to watch the game. You look like you plan to participate in it.”

She’d chosen faded jeans, a Mariner T-shirt and Steve’s old baseball cap. “Have you got a problem with this, fellow?” she asked him, her eyes sparkling with fun and laughter.

Still grinning, Rush shook his head. “Come on, Babe Ruth, we’ve got a game to see.”

* * *

They were settled in their box seats with foot-long hot dogs, a bag of peanuts and cold drinks by the time the first pitch was tossed. Rush had never been much into baseball. Football was his game, but he couldn’t have refused Lindy anything. Her energy and enthusiasm for life were like a breath of fresh tangy air after a storm at sea. Being with her stirred his senses to vibrant life and made him glad for who and what he was. There were odd moments, now and then, when he resisted the magnetic pull he felt toward her and recounted the arguments—that she was too young, too vulnerable and his best friend’s sister. But each day the echoes from his conscience came back weaker and his arguments sounded flatter. He was losing the battle, convinced he was being swept away in the whirlpool with little control over what was happening to either of them. For the most part Rush had given up the struggle and was living one day at a time, spending time with Lindy, savoring the moments they were together. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t allow the fickle Fates to carry him where they would, knowing full well they’d place him with Lindy, warm and willing, in his bed.

Jeff Dwyer knew him well enough to have guessed something had changed Rush’s life. The day before Jeff had confronted Rush and suggested that he revealed all the symptoms of a man in love. Rush had denied that, probably a lot more forcefully than he should have, because Jeff had gone on to enumerate the changes he’d seen in Rush since the Mitchell’s arrival back in Bremerton.

Not willing to drop the matter, Jeff had shown up at the apartment. He seemed to take delight in informing Rush that he’d been watching him closely of late. Jeff had noticed how quickly Rush left work the minute his shift was over, as if he couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment. It used to be that Rush hung around awhile to shoot the bull with the other guys. No more. Rush was out of the shipyard like greased lightning. And furthermore, Jeff had claimed, Rush walked around with a cocky half smile, as though he found something highly amusing. As far as Jeff was concerned, these telltale symptoms added up to one thing: a woman.

Rush hadn’t argued with his friend. He’d simply refused to discuss the subject. A lot of good it had done him. Just when he’d thought he was making headway and Jeff was about to drop the entire matter, Lindy had come bursting in the front door. Her eyes had glowed and sparkled as they sought him, confirming everything Jeff had been saying ten times over.

At his side, Lindy roared to her feet cheering. Lost in his thoughts, Rush hadn’t been watching the game and now he saw that the Mariners had just scored. He joined Lindy and shouted once for effect.

Lindy laughed gleefully, turned to him and hugged his waist, her eyes alive with joy. With hardly a pause, she sat back down and reached for the bag of peanuts. Rush took his seat as well, but his mind was whirling. He wanted to kiss Lindy at that moment, and the need was so strong in him that it demanded all his restraint not to haul her into his arms right then and there. He reached for the peanuts himself and noted grimly that his hands were trembling with the need to touch her.

The game must have gotten good, because several times during the next few innings Lindy scooted to the edge of her seat and shouted advice to both player and umpire. As far as Rush could tell, he’d responded appropriately throughout the game. He’d cheered and hissed a couple of times, applauded and booed when Lindy did, but he hadn’t a clue what was going on in the field. Dealing with what was happening to his own emotions was all he could handle for now. He was plowing through mine-infested waters with Lindy, and he was gradually losing his grip on his control with each minute he spent in her company.

Following the baseball game they walked from the Kingdome back to the apartment, a healthy two miles. Personally he would have preferred a taxi, but Lindy was in a mood to walk. She chatted as they strolled along, hand in hand. She was pleased that the home team had won and soon Rush felt himself caught up in her good mood.

* * *

Lindy didn’t know what was wrong with Rush, but he hadn’t been himself all evening. He’d hardly spoken during the entire game, and although he seemed to be paying attention, she could have sworn he hadn’t noticed a blasted thing.

For her part, Lindy felt great. More than great. She felt wonderful! And so much of this newly discovered inner peace was due to loving Rush. She even knew the precise minute she’d recognized the truth about her feelings for her brother’s friend. It had been the morning of her first day at Boeing, when he’d told her he couldn’t let her think he’d touched another woman after kissing her. Even now, the memory of his words had the power to bring tears to her eyes. For days she’d yearned to tell him how her life had changed since she’d met him. But her words would only embarrass him, so she’d kept them locked inside her heart until she was convinced she’d choke on them.

When they reached the apartment, Rush held open the door for her to precede him inside. Lindy stepped into the living room, but didn’t turn on any lights. The view of the Seattle skyline from the window drew Lindy there.

“Isn’t it lovely?” she said, looking out over the glimmering lights of the waterfront. All seventy-five floors of the Columbia Center were lit, as was the Smith Tower.

Rush stood behind her, but said nothing.

Lindy turned and slipped her arms around his middle, pressing her ear to his broad chest, hugging him, savoring the peace of the moment, knowing he wouldn’t allow it to last long.

His lips brushed the top of her head and she smiled. From experience Lindy knew that he tensed before he kissed her, as though gathering together his reserve of self-control. True to form, he stiffened and she smiled because she was beginning to know him so well. Eager now, she raised her head and tilted it to one side to receive his kiss. As it had been on previous nights, his mouth was warm and moist as it glided smoothly over hers. In welcome she parted her lips and slipped her arms up his chest to lazily loop them around his neck.

His kiss was light. Petal soft. Controlled.

Already his hands were braced on her shoulders, cupping them as he prepared to ease himself out of her arms. Lindy felt as though she were starving and a delectable feast was within easy reach, and yet Rush wouldn’t allow her more than a sample.

“No,” she objected in a tight whisper. She raised her hands to touch his face, her fingertips gliding over his features, hoping to memorize each one, burn it into her heart so that when he left her she could bear the parting.

“Lindy, don’t,” he groaned, and squeezed his eyes closed. He gripped her wrists and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing the tips.

“Hold me for just a little while longer.” She thought for a moment that he was going to argue with her, but he didn’t. With her arms draped around his neck, she pressed her cheek over his and felt him relax ever so slightly. But it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her, and unable to resist, she turned her head and nuzzled his ear with her nose. Her mouth grazed his clenched jaw. Her lips worked their way across his brow, over his eyes and down the side of his nose to nibble on his lower lip. She hesitated, then ran the moist tip of her tongue over the seam of his lips.

Rush’s arms tightened around her and he whispered her name on the tail end of a plea for her to stop.

He wanted her. She could feel the evidence boldly pressing against her thigh, and the knowledge of his desire gave her a heady sense of power. Led by instinct, she edged as close as possible to him and rotated her hips once, biting back a cry at the pleasure the action gave her even as it created a need for more. So much more.

“Oh God,” he moaned through clenched teeth. “Lindy, don’t do that.”

“All I want you to do is hold me for a few minutes more. Is that so much to ask?”

“Yes,” he returned, and his breath came in hot, quick gasps.

If he had planned on arguing with her, he didn’t follow through—apparently having decided it was a losing battle. His hands, which until that moment had been on either side of her waist, moved slowly upward as though drawn there by a force stronger than his will.

Lindy’s breasts strained against the fabric of her T-shirt with the need to experience his touch. Slowly his palms encircled her breasts, cupping them, weighing her ripe fullness.

Her soft moans echoed his.

“Lindy, no,” he breathed, and the words seemed to stagger from his lips, low and reluctant. “Tell me to stop. Remind me what a good friend your brother is.” His thumbs rotated around her nipples, which beaded into hard pebbles and stood proudly at attention. Rush groaned once more.

He kissed her then, hard, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth as if to punish her for making him want her so desperately. She used her hands to hold his head as her eager tongue met his and they dueled and stroked against each other.

He broke away from her and sucked in deep, uneven breaths. “This has got to stop,” he whispered fervently into her hair. “Now.”

Lindy found she could say nothing. She searched his handsome face for some sign, anything that would explain why it was so urgent for them to stop kissing when she felt so right in his arms. Her heart was pounding in a hard, fast rhythm that made her feel breathless and weak.

Yet at the same time she was filled with an awesome sense of power. Standing on tiptoe, she slanted her mouth over his and used her tongue to torment him, probing his mouth with swift, gentle thrusts.

“Oh God, Lindy.” He kissed her then, firmly, leaving her in no doubt that he was the one in control, not she.

Without Lindy being sure how he’d managed it, Rush had her T-shirt off and her bra unfastened and discarded. The next thing Lindy knew, they were both on the sofa, she in a reclining position, Rush above her. He kissed her face, her forehead, her eyes and lips, again and again, until she lost count. Then his mouth worked its way down the delicate line of her jaw to her neck. She sucked in a wobbly breath when his moist, hot lips found one of her nipples and drew it into his mouth for his tongue to torment. When he’d finished with it he moved to the other nipple, licking it until it ached and throbbed, taut and firm.

He kissed her lips repeatedly, and waves of erotic sensation lapped over her like water pounding relentlessly against the shore.

Lindy was throbbing everywhere. Her mouth, her tongue, her breasts, her belly and the area between her thighs. Her fingers wove their way through his hair.

“Rush.” She whispered his name in a tormented whisper. “I love you so much.”

He stilled, and after a torturous moment he raised his head. Poised as he was above her, his eyes feasted on her, studying her for what seemed an eternity. Then he shook himself as though coming out of a mindless fog. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.” She held his head with her hands and said it again. “I love you.” She punctuated each word with a swift kiss on his lips.

Rush’s brow folded into a dark, brooding frown. “You can’t possibly mean that. Lindy, for God’s sake, you barely know me!”

“I know everything I need to.” She smiled up at him, not willing to listen to any more of his arguments.

As though he wasn’t sure how to respond, Rush slowly disentangled their limbs one by one, the whole time looking as if he didn’t have a clue how they’d ended up that way. When he’d finished, he sat on the edge of the sofa and wiped a hand back and forth over his face.

“Lindy, listen.”

“No. I’m not going to because you’re going to argue with me, and I won’t let you.” She sat upright, their thighs so close they touched.

“It’s only natural….”

Lindy slid off the sofa and pressed one knee to the floor so she could look him in the eye, but his gaze stubbornly refused to meet hers.

“I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

His face was tight with what looked like embarrassment as he reached for her T-shirt and handed it to her. Lindy smiled and slipped it over her head.

“I love you,” she repeated, feeling more sure of herself every time she said it.

“Lindy….”

“I’m not too young to know my own mind.” When his gaze shot to her, she knew she’d stumbled over one of his objections. “I’m twenty-two years old, for heaven’s sake. I’m not a child.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but she pressed her finger over his lips to silence him. “Now this is the biggie. You’re worried about what happened with Paul and you think all this emotion I feel for you has to do with him. I can understand your concern, and in the beginning you might have been right. But not now. I was mulling this over the other night. Thinking about how low I was when I moved to Seattle and how I was convinced nothing good would ever happen to me again. Then I met you, and, Rush…” she stopped, biting into her bottom lip as the emotion filled her eyes.

“There’s no need….”

“Yes, there is.” Her hands cupped his face, her gaze delving into his, showing him all the love that came shining through from her heart. “When I think about everything that led me to move to Seattle I haven’t a single regret. Not one. All the pain, all the disillusionment was worth it. In fact, I’ll always be grateful to Paul because it was through him that I found you.”

“Lindy, stop. Don’t say any more.”

“But I have to. Don’t you see?”

Rush closed his eyes and pressed his cheek next to her tear-stained one. His breathing was as labored as her own, but otherwise he didn’t move.

“It took what happened with Paul for me to find you, appreciate you, understand you. I love you so much…. I can’t keep it inside anymore.”

“Oh, Lord, don’t say that.”

Once more, she pressed her finger over his lips. “I don’t want anything from you. Nothing. You didn’t ask for this, and I’ve probably embarrassed the hell out of you by blurting it out. I apologize, but Rush—my noble, honorable Rush—I do love you.”

She stood then, her legs a little shaky. “Having gotten that off my chest, I’m going to leave you.”

“Lindy?” His gruff voice stopped her.

“Yes?”

He had the look of a man who’d been pulled apart on a torture rack. He rubbed a hand down over his face and then shook his head. “Nothing.”

* * *

The following morning Lindy woke to hear Rush rummaging around the kitchen, albeit quietly, no doubt hoping to escape without having to confront her. She climbed out of bed and greeted him with a warm smile.

“’Morning.”

He grumbled something in return.

“Did you sleep well?”

He gave her a look that told her he hadn’t. “I’ve got watch today.”

“Yes, I know.”

“It’s Saturday. How come you aren’t sleeping in?”

She dropped her eyes. “I wanted to be sure of something.”

“What?”

“That you believe what I told you last night.”

His gaze found hers and Lindy could tell he was struggling within himself. The stern look he wore so often in the morning softened somewhat, but when he spoke his voice remained gruff. “Listen, I’m not much of a conversationalist at this time of day, and now probably isn’t the best place to discuss this.” He paused as though to compose his thoughts, sighed and then continued. “I want you to know, I’m truly flattered that you think you love me.”

“But—”

“But,” he cut in, “you can’t trust what you’re feeling right now. So let’s leave it at that. Okay?”

“Leave it?” she flared. “Rush, no….”

“I’ll be your friend, Lindy, but that’s all I ever intend to be.”

“My friend?”

“And that’s it, so don’t argue.” He downed the last of his coffee and set the cup in the sink with as much force as if he intended to shove it down the drain. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”

“I do.”

“Then I’d be honored to have you for a friend, Rush Callaghan.”

He paused, his back to her. “No more kissing, Lindy. I mean that.”

“No kissing,” she echoed.

“We’re going to live as brother and sister from here on out.”

“Brother and sister.” Lindy knew that would last until about lunchtime tomorrow, if that long.

“And if it proves too difficult for us, then I’ll make arrangements to live aboard the Mitchell.”

“If you think it’s for the best,” she agreed, doing her best to swallow her amusement. Rush’s reaction was exactly as she’d guessed it would be. “If that’s what you honestly want.”

His hand slammed against the counter. “You know it isn’t,” he said, and whirled around to face her. “Damn it all to hell. Have you the slightest notion of how close we came to making love last night?”

She nodded.

“I’ve never known a woman who could tie me into knots the way you do. I promised myself I wasn’t going to touch you again, and here it is seven-thirty in the morning and I want you so damn much I hurt.”

Silently she stepped to his side and looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Damn it, Lindy,” he groaned. “Why do you have to be so beautiful?” He slipped his arms around her waist and exhaled sharply. “Now kiss me before I go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Obediently she twined her arms around his neck and raised her lips to his. “Anything you say, big brother.”

Chapter 7

Freshly ground hamburger squished between Lindy’s long fingers as she meshed the meat and spices together to form patties for the barbecue grill. It was a lovely summer afternoon in a week that had begun with such marvelous promise.

The front door opened and Rush let himself in to the apartment.

“Hi,” Lindy called out, pleased to see him. He was fifteen minutes later than usual, and she’d hoped he hadn’t missed the ferry, which ran hourly. “How do barbecued hamburgers sound for dinner?”

“Fine.”

The word was clipped and impatient, as though what she served for their evening meal was the least of his concerns. Surprised at his gruff tone, Lindy turned around to find him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed in a frown so tight it darkened his face.

“Did you have a bad day?”

“No.”

Something was obviously troubling him, but from the hard set of his mouth, she knew it wouldn’t do her any good to ask. In an effort to ignore his surly mood, she hurried to tell him her good news. “I got word from Steve. The Atlantis is due in as early as next week.”

Rush acknowledged the information with a curt nod.

“There’s cold pop in the fridge if that interests you.”

Apparently it didn’t because Rush left her and moved into the living room to turn on the television. Lindy finished her task, washed the hamburger goop from her fingers and joined him there, sitting on the arm of the sofa. She rested her elbow gently on Rush’s shoulder while Susan Hutchinson from Channel 7 relayed the latest news-making incident from the Persian Gulf.

When Rush pulled out of Bremerton, Lindy knew the Mitchell would be headed for those same trouble-infested waters. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she battled to control her anxiety. She hated to think of Rush in any danger and wished the Mitchell was headed for the South Pacific or somewhere equally pleasant.

Rush must have sensed her fears because he wrapped his arm around her and gently squeezed her waist. Her hand slid over his shoulder and she kissed the top of his head, loving him more each minute of every day.

“Lindy?”

“Hmm?”

The tension in his shoulders was so severe, she wondered how he could hold himself stiff for so long and still breathe.

“When I leave, I don’t want you clinging to me.”

She blinked, not sure she understood what he was saying. He seemed to be implying she would make a scene on the dock, weeping and gnashing her teeth because the man she loved was heading out to sea. That he would even imagine such a thing was an insult. The other implication was even more offensive.

“Are you suggesting that once you leave I should start dating other men?”

A week seemed to pass before he answered. “Yes. I think that would be a good idea.”

Lindy was slow to react to what he was suggesting. Her emotions went from surprise to mild irritation, then quickly broadened to out-and-out fury. She jerked her arm off his shoulder and leaped to her feet. “Well, thank you very much.”

“For what?”

If it hadn’t been so tragic, so painfully sad, Lindy might have laughed. She’d never felt as close to any man as she had to Rush these past two weeks. When she’d declared her love, she hadn’t been looking for white lace and promises. The words had been seared against her tender heart and she hadn’t been able to hold them inside a minute longer. She hadn’t asked anything of him, but she certainly hadn’t expected this intolerable pat on the hand, telling her she was too young, too immature or too stupid to know her own mind.

“For God’s sake, think about it, will you?”

“What?” she returned in like voice. “That I’m still a baby and certainly incapable of sound judgment? How about the fact that I’m looking to prove myself after Paul? What I feel for you is obviously some rebounding thing to soothe my injured ego. Right? Is that what you want me to think about, Rush? Unfortunately I can’t come up with a single reason I should, since you’ve already shoved those things in my face at every opportunity.”

His jaw was clenched so hard that his temple went white. “You’re fresh out of college….”

“And still tied to Mama’s apron strings. Is that what you mean to imply?”

“No.”

Oh, the gall of the man. Rather than continue arguing, Lindy returned to the kitchen. She was so furious that she clenched her hands into hard fists and exhaled several times to gain control of her simmering rage. She gritted her teeth as she went about fixing their meal. If Rush was so keen for her to start dating someone, then Lindy could see no reason why she should wait until the Mitchell left Puget Sound. A small sense of satisfaction lifted the corner of her mouth in a soft sneer as she thought about having men come to the apartment to pick her up and the pleasure she’d derive from introducing them to Rush. Oh, he’d really love that. She might even stay the night with a friend from work and let Rush stew, thinking she was with another man. Then she’d see exactly how eager he was to have her meet someone else.

Lindy braced her hands against the counter and hung her head in abject defeat. Behaving that way was childish and immature and impossibly stupid. Sure, she’d make Rush suffer, but she would end up being the one with a broken heart and myriad regrets.

Rush seemed to be telling her something more. Yes, he hungered for her physically. The circumstances in which they were living were rife with sexual tension. Each day it became more difficult to ignore the fire between them, and more than once they’d gotten close enough to the flames to singe their self-control.

The realization hit Lindy then, the impact as strong as if Rush had slugged his fist into her stomach. In some ways it would have been easier if he had. Rush didn’t love her. He pitied her after what had happened with Paul. All his tenderness, all his concern, everything he’d done had been born of pity. She’d mistaken his touch, his soul-wrenching kisses for passion when, from the beginning, all he’d really felt was compassion for her.

“Where’s my book?”

Rush’s question came at her as if from outer space. She turned to discover he stood not more than five feet away, looking irritated and impatient. She hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

“My book?” he repeated. “The one that was in the living room last night. What did you do with it?”

Still numb, she raised her hand and pointed toward his bedroom. “I set it on your dresser.”

Since there was so little time in the morning, Lindy had gotten into the habit of straightening up the apartment before she went to bed. The night before Rush had been at a meeting, and she’d retired early, tired from a long day, before he’d gotten home.

“I’d appreciate it if you left my things alone,” Rush said in a low growl. “Move whatever you want of yours, but kindly keep your hands off mine.”

Answering him with anything more than a shake of her head would have been impossible. Lindy didn’t know what had gone wrong, but in the space of fifteen minutes her world had been badly shaken. First Rush had told her he wanted her to start seeing other men and then he’d jumped all over her for putting his book away. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

The insight came to her then—it seemed to be the night for them—Rush wanted her out of the apartment. When she’d gotten the job with Boeing, it had been understood she’d need to wait for a couple of paychecks before she could afford to rent her own place. They hadn’t actually discussed it, and at the time Lindy had let the subject drop because she’d wanted to spend as much time as she could with Rush. He hadn’t asked her about it, and she’d assumed that he wanted her with him just as much. Once more, she’d been wrong.

Quickly calculating her limited funds, she realized that with what remained of her savings and her first check, which was due on Friday, she could possibly afford a studio apartment. If she asked around at the office, there might even be someone there who was looking for a roommate.

The muscles in her throat constricted as she fought down the regret. She’d been such a fool.

* * *

Rush noted that Lindy left the apartment as soon as she’d finished preparing their dinner, not bothering to eat anything herself. For that matter he didn’t have much of an appetite either, but he sat down at the table, propped his book open in front of him and pretended an interest in both the book and the dinner.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask Lindy where she was going, but he’d swallowed the question, realizing how stupid it would sound after the way he’d laid into her earlier. He hadn’t meant to start a fight, hadn’t even been looking for one. It had just happened, and he was as shocked by his insensitive demands as Lindy had been. He hadn’t meant a thing he’d said. The hurt in her expressive dark eyes returned to haunt him now. When he’d asked her about the book, she’d stood looking at him in confusion, the violet smudges that appeared beneath her eyes a silent testimony to the trauma his words had inflicted.

As for the suggestion she see other men, that was downright idiotic. Talk about inflicting self-torture! He wanted to see Lindy with another man about as much as he desired a bladder infection.

The problem, Rush knew, was that he loved Lindy Kyle. She was stubborn, headstrong, proud…warm and vibrant. She might as well have branded his heart, because he belonged to her.

Rush pushed his plate aside and wearily wiped a palm across his eyes. Hell, this was the last thing he’d planned would happen. He was thirty-two years old, for God’s sake. Mature enough to recognize when he was headed for trouble. He’d known what was going to happen with Lindy from the first night he’d seen her standing, all soft and feminine, in the hallway outside Steve’s bedroom. He’d known the morning she’d blasted the rock music loud enough to hurl him out of bed because she was hurt and angry. He’d known when she’d held his head between her hands and stared into his soul and whispered so sweetly that she loved him.

Rush stood and walked out onto the lanai, hands buried in his pants pockets. The dark green waters of Puget Sound were visible and Rush snickered softly. So much for not seeking a bridge to tie him to the mainland. He was trapped on shore now and he dreaded leaving. He used to think of the navy as the only wife he’d ever need. But recently, when he crawled into bed at night, it was Lindy he longed to wrap his arms around. Lindy he longed to love. He wanted her to be a permanent part of his life. She was laughter and sunshine. She’d made him feel again, laugh again, love again. He couldn’t bear to think of what the future would be like without her. Two weeks. He’d only been with Lindy for two weeks. Before that she’d been a name, the sister of a good friend. He couldn’t ask her to share his life based on a two-week acquaintance. It was crazy. No, he’d be patient with her, force himself to wait. The six-month separation would do them both good. Time would test the strength of their love. Time would reveal the truth.

* * *

It was only a little after eight-thirty when Lindy returned to the apartment. She would have preferred to stay away much longer, but after reading through the evening newspaper for apartment rentals and wasting five dollars on a horrible movie she didn’t know where else to go or what else to do. Eventually she’d need to return anyway, and knowing Rush, he’d probably left the apartment, as well.

He wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, and she didn’t bother to check any of the other rooms, not wanting a recurrence of their earlier argument. It was obvious he wasn’t in the mood for company.

Sitting at the table, Lindy spread out the classified section and read the apartment-for-rent advertisements once more.

Quite by accident she found a section she hadn’t thought to look at before: roommates wanted. She read a couple of those and decided to phone the one that looked the most promising.

“Hello,” she said brightly when the woman answered. “I’m calling about your ad in the paper.”

Rush walked into the kitchen, hesitated when he saw her and opened the refrigerator to take out a cold can of pop. Lindy strove to ignore him as much as possible. Her fingers gripped the pen unnecessarily hard as she doodled while the woman on the other end of the line explained a few of the details regarding her ad.

“It says here that you’re looking for a nonsmoker. I…I don’t smoke and I’ve recently moved into the area and need a place to live. I…have a job.”

“Lindy.”

Rush called her name, but she pretended she hadn’t heard him. Besides she was already involved in one conversation and if he chose to be rude that was his problem.

Undeterred, Rush waved his hand in front of her face. “Get off the phone.”

“Excuse me a minute please.” Lindy spoke to the woman, enunciating each word as she held her temper by a fragile thread. She pressed the receiver to her shoulder blade and glared up at Rush. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she hissed between clenched teeth.

“There’s no need for you to find an apartment,” he told her, returning her heated stare.

“I beg your pardon, Rush Callaghan, but this is my life, and if I choose to leave this apartment, I’ll do so with or without your permission.”

Rush cursed beneath his breath and walked away from her.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Lindy said sweetly into the telephone receiver. “Perhaps it would be best if we met?”

“Damn it, Lindy,” Rush shouted, twisting around to face her once more. “Will you kindly get off the phone so we can talk?”

He might as well have been speaking to a stone wall for all the attention Lindy paid him. “Yes, Tuesday afternoon would be fine.”

Rush’s returning glare was hot enough to peel thirty-year-old wallpaper off a wall, but still Lindy ignored him.

“You won’t be meeting whoever that is,” he told her sternly, looming over her. “You’re only wasting time.”

“Kindly excuse me again, would you?” Lindy asked softly, deliberately calm. She turned to Rush then and half rose from her chair. “Would you shut up? I can’t hear a word she’s saying.”

“Good.”

He was making Lindy more furious by the minute, and she tried to tell him as much and still keep control of her temper. “I’m sorry to keep interrupting our conversation,” she said to the woman on the phone.

Rush walked around the table a couple of times, looking like a man trapped in a small space—or a shark circling its kill. Finally he stopped, standing directly across from her. He closed his eyes and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck as though to relieve an ache there, then paused and looked at her. “Lindy, I’m leaving.”

The words were nearly shouted. She hesitated and prayed for patience, and when that didn’t work, she counted to ten. Flippantly she raised her hand and waved goodbye. Still, he didn’t move.

“I’m twenty-two,” Lindy answered the woman’s question. “No…no you needn’t worry about that sort of thing. There isn’t anyone important in my life at the moment.” She swallowed tightly at the lie.

She exchanged a look with Rush and feared he was going to explode. “I thought you were leaving,” she whispered heatedly, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Not the apartment,” he raged, staring at her as though she were completely dense. “The Mitchell is sailing out.”

“I know…. In two weeks.”

“The catapults are being tested tomorrow and possibly Wednesday. If everything works out we’ll be gone by the beginning of next week.”

“The beginning of next week,” she echoed, hanging up the phone. She kept her hand on the receiver feeling numb with shock, numb with fear. “But you said it would be at least a month.”

“As I recall, I told you it could be as long as a month. As it happens, it’s only two, possibly three weeks.”

“Oh, Rush.” She turned to him, her eyes wide with a hundred emotions she didn’t know how to define. She’d accepted long ago that their time together was limited. But she’d counted on every minute of these remaining weeks. Needed them. Needed Rush.

“It shouldn’t come as any great surprise,” he told her, and pulled out a chair to sit across from her.

“It isn’t…. It’s just that…I don’t know.” Her stomach twisted into hard knots and for a painful moment she couldn’t breathe. She was stunned, and she felt Rush’s eyes slowly search her face. With everything in her, she met his gaze, determined to appear cool and composed. Her heart might be quivering with apprehension, but she’d die smiling before she’d allow him to know it. He’d already told her once that he didn’t want her clinging to him when he left. And she wouldn’t. She’d stand on the dock with a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye, and wave until her arm dropped off, but she’d never let him know it was killing her.

“About tonight,” he started again. “I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

He dropped his gaze, but not before Lindy saw a strange mixture of regret, desire and remorse. In the two weeks they’d been together, Lindy had thought she’d witnessed all Rush’s moods. She’d seen him at his cynical best, when he’d been purposely aloof and brash. She’d experienced his comfort, his tenderness as he held her in his arms while she sobbed against his chest. And she’d heard the music of his laughter, stood transfixed by his sometimes warm-heated, playful moods. Oh Lord, she was going to miss him. Miss everything about him.

“Lindy, I’m sorry for what I said.”

His hand reached for hers, rubbing warmth back into her chilled fingers. She shook her head, hoping that would suffice as acceptance of his apology.

They were silent for a moment, caught in the surging tide of their individual thoughts.

“I don’t have any right to ask you to wait six months for me.”

“I’ll wait,” she offered quietly. Lindy had no other choice.

“If you meet someone else…”

“Is that what you want?”

“No.” Anger flared briefly in his eyes. Then his expression changed to that cool, watchful look he wore so often. “No,” he repeated softly.

“That isn’t what you said earlier.” She tried to laugh, but the sound of her pain was carried in the mirth.

“I didn’t mean it. Not a word.”

“You don’t believe that I love you, do you?”

He waited a long time before he answered. “I don’t know. I think it’s too soon after Paul for you to know what you’re feeling.”

Lindy closed her eyes in an effort to control the urge to argue with him. She did love him, and never more than now. She’d just learned he’d be sailing out of her life for half a year, and her only thought was how she would manage without him.

She watched as a small pulse started in his temple. “I don’t want to leave you, Lindy.”

Her gaze shot to his, and her eyes widened with astonishment. Rush loved the sea. The navy was more than his career. It was his life, the very reason he got out of bed every morning. She’d listened for hours while he described for her the warm sensations that went through him when he was on the open seas. She’d felt his pride and exhilaration when he spoke of standing alone against the force of a fierce storm. He loved everything about navy life. It was his dream, just as the oceans of the world were his destiny.

And he didn’t want to leave her. What he felt for her was stronger than the lure of the sea.

Tears shimmered in her eyes and she bit hard on her lower lip to hold them at bay. Rush wouldn’t tell her he loved her—not with words. It would have been more than she could expect. But by admitting that he didn’t want to leave her, he said everything.

When Lindy had composed herself enough to look up at Rush again, she felt the tension in every line of his lovingly familiar face.

“I want you to stay at the apartment,” he said, and his hand continued to rub hers, holding her fingers in a grip that was almost painfully tight. “Steve will be back soon, but he’ll only be here a few weeks, if that long.

Lindy nodded.

“Then the place will be empty for months.”

Again she acknowledged his words with an abrupt movement of her head.

“It would be better if there was someone living here. As it is now, an empty apartment is an invitation to burglars. You’d actually be doing Steve and me a favor if you agree to say.”

“I’ll…I’ll want to start contributing toward the rent.”

“Fine. Whatever you want. When Steve arrives the two of you can work it out.”

“What about when Steve is here?” Lindy asked. “Where will I sleep?”

“He can have my room.”

“But what about when you’re both here?”

Rush frowned, and then a strange, almost humorous light entered his eyes and a soft smile crowded his face. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Anything else?” he asked.

She dropped her gaze to his hand, which was holding hers. “I love you, Rush, and I’m going to miss you like hell.”

He raised her hand to his lips, closed his eyes and kissed it gently.

* * *

The coffee was ready by the time Rush met Lindy in the kitchen the following morning. Although she’d been physically and mentally exhausted, she’d hardly slept, managing three, maybe four hours of rest at the most. Now her eyes burned and she felt on the verge of tears.

Rush joined her at the table. He wordlessly reached for the morning newspaper and buried his face in it, not speaking to her—apparently pretending she wasn’t there. Lindy stood it as long as she could.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked.

He shook his head. The stupid newspaper still presented a thin barrier between them.

Whereas Lindy had felt loved and reassured after their talk the night before, this morning she felt lonely and bereft. Rush hadn’t sailed away yet, but he might as well have for all the companionship he offered.

“I think I’ll get dressed now,” she whispered, hoping that would gain his attention.

“Fine.”

“Stop it, Rush.”

That worked, and he lowered the paper, peering at her over the top of the page, his face clean of expression. “Stop what?”

“That!” She pointed an accusing finger at the newspaper. “I hate it when you do this.”

“What hideous crime am I guilty of now?”

“You haven’t left yet…. I’d think you’d want to spend every minute you could with me…. Instead you’re hiding behind the Post-Intelligencer so you won’t have to look at me.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not. It’s almost as if you can hardly wait to get away from me.”

With deliberately slow movements he folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Is it because I didn’t want any breakfast? Is that what’s upset you so much? You know I seldom eat this early.”

“No…of course that’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

“I…don’t know.” Lindy felt like such a fool. She didn’t know why she was acting like this, but she couldn’t stand it when Rush treated her this way. She could deal with his anger far more easily than this intolerable patience.

“What exactly do you want from me, Lindy?”

“I want some emotion,” she cried.

“What?” he barked, clearly not understanding her.

“Not tears. I want you to…oh, never mind. Go back to reading your precious paper with that same stoic expression you always wear in the morning. I humbly apologize for having interrupted your reading time.”

Lindy couldn’t get to her bedroom fast enough. She took small pleasure in slamming her door. Her intention had been to dress as quickly as she could and leave the apartment. Instead she found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, trembling and teary eyed, confused and suddenly feeling, utterly, desperately alone.

When her bedroom door flew open, Lindy gasped. Rush’s gaze pinned her to the bed as he silently stalked across the room.

“Damn it, Lindy.” The words were ground out through his teeth before he sank onto the bed beside her. His arms tightened around her trembling body, pressing her down against the mattress. His hands found and cupped her breasts as he buried his face in her hair, spreading a wildfire of kisses along her cheeks and face, but avoiding her lips.

All Rush had to do was touch her and the desire curled in her belly like an anchor rope ready to plunge her into dark, inviting depths of passion.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders as he raised his head and stared down at her. He looked as though he were trying to stop himself but couldn’t. Then his mouth closed hungrily over hers, rubbing back and forth, his tongue probing hers.

Lindy’s arms found his back and she arched her spine, grinding her hips against him, needing him so desperately she could barely breathe. The longer Rush kissed her, the deeper she sank into the turbulent waters of desire. She felt like she was drowning, oblivious to everything except the primitive need to be loved by Rush.

“Oh, Lindy….” The words came out softly as he lifted his head from hers. He paused and dragged in a heavy breath, held it a moment then expelled it. “Well,” he whispered, “is that enough emotion for you?”

Chapter 8

Lindy liked Susan Dwyer the minute the two met. Susan’s reddish-brown hair was naturally curly, and although it was styled fashionably short, it managed to fall in an unruly array surrounding her pert face. She possessed the largest, liveliest brown eyes that Lindy could ever remember seeing on anyone. They sparkled with intelligence and vitality, glinting with warmth and curiosity as they studied Lindy.

“Jeff has talked of little else since he met you the other day,” Susan confessed.

“It was certainly nice of you to invite Rush and me over for dinner,” Lindy returned. Twin boys, about eighteen months of age with reddish caps of curly hair like their mother’s stood at the edge of their playpen, silently regarding the two women through large, doleful brown eyes. They’d recently awakened from a late-afternoon nap and looked mournfully toward Susan in the hope that she’d abandon her dinner guests and play with them.

“A meal is a small price to pay to meet you.”

Lindy smiled at that. “I take it Rush hasn’t said much about me?”

“Are you kidding? He’s been so tight-mouthed one would think you were top-secret information.”

“That sounds like Rush.” Lindy’s gaze sought him out and found him and Jeff on the back patio, lighting up the barbecue grill. Just watching him gave her a solid, warm feeling deep inside her breast. She’d found him attractive before, but now, set against this low-key social background, dressed casually in jeans and a striped shirt, looking relaxed and at ease, she found she loved him all the more.

“Rush and Jeff have been friends a lot of years,” Susan went on to say. She opened the refrigerator, brought out a large bowl of potato salad and set it on the kitchen counter. “Jeff knew the first day after the Mitchell returned that something had happened to Rush. He mentioned it to me right away, but it wasn’t until last week that he knew that Rush had found a special woman.”

“Rush is the one who’s special.” Lindy continued to study him, trying to put the knowledge that he’d be leaving out of her mind long enough to enjoy this one evening with his friends.

Susan turned around and her gaze followed Lindy’s. “He’s happier now than I can ever remember seeing him. More serene. You’ve been good for him, Lindy—really good. I didn’t used to like Rush…. Actually I was only reciprocating what he felt toward me. I think I may have reminded him of someone he knew a long time ago. Although Jeff’s never told me this, I believe Rush may have tried to talk him out of marrying me.”

“I’ve never known a man who can frown the way he does,” Lindy said with a soft sigh. “I swear one of those famous looks of his could curdle milk a block away.”

Susan hooted. “I know exactly the look you mean.”

“How long have you and Jeff been married?” From everything Rush had told Lindy about Susan, and he’d spoken of little else on the hour-long ferry ride to Bremerton, Rush held his friend’s wife in the highest regard. She was surprised to hear he’d once felt differently.

“We’ve been married about two and a half years now.”

Jeff said something that caused Rush to chuckle. The low, modulated laugh seemed to shoot into the sky. Then they both laughed.

Surprised, Lindy and Susan turned around.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really heard Rush laugh quite like that…. So free,” Susan murmured, as she gazed at the two men. “He’s always been so cynical, so stoic. I never really knew what he was thinking. When we first met he terrified me.”

“I know what you felt,” Lindy said slowly. “The first couple of days after I met Rush, I found myself wanting to thwart him. He can be such an arrogant bastard.”

“And at the same time there’s something so appealing about him,” Susan answered thoughtfully. “And I’m not talking about how good-looking he is, either, although God knows he’s handsome enough. But even when he openly disapproved of me, I couldn’t help admiring and respecting him. It took time to earn his trust, and despite everything I was glad he was Jeff’s friend. There’s something inherently strong about Rush. Strong and intensely loyal. I’ve always known Rush would look out for Jeff no matter what the circumstances. It helped when Jeff had to leave…. Knowing he would be with Rush.”

“He’s the Rock of Gibraltar, I know,” Lindy answered softly, loving him so much her heart ached. “Loyal and constant.” She tried not to think about the huge aircraft carrier sailing out of Bremerton, taking Rush thousands of miles away from her. She attempted to push away all thoughts of how empty her life would be after the Mitchell left.

“What’s it like?” Lindy whispered, hardly aware the words had slipped from her mouth.

Intuitively, it seemed, Susan knew what she was asking. “I don’t sleep for the first week. No matter how many times Jeff leaves, it’s always the same. For seven days I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, my stomach in knots. As much as I try I can’t seem to stop fretting and worrying. Finally I’m so exhausted my body takes over, and I’m able to sleep.”

“Rush told me you are one of the strongest women he knows…. The best kind of navy wife.”

Susan’s countenance softened and her cheeks flushed to a fetching shade of rose pink. She dipped her head a little and murmured, “How sweet of him to say so.”

“What does Jeff say about your sleeping problems?” Lindy asked.

Susan shrugged. “He doesn’t know.”

“But…”

“He has enough worries and responsibilities aboard the Mitchell without me burdening him with more. As much as possible I send him off with a smile and handle anything that arises as best I can while he’s gone.”

“I’m afraid,” Lindy admitted reluctantly. “Not because Rush is leaving; I…I can accept that. But I worry about them sailing in the Persian Gulf.” Every night, it seemed, the news was filled with reports of violence in the troubled waters of the Middle East. Before they’d left the apartment she’d heard reports about gunboats that had attempted to attack the U.S. Naval forces that very afternoon. Lindy hadn’t mentioned to Rush what she was feeling, knowing he’d brush off her concern. She wanted to be strong, wanted to be brave for both their sakes.

Susan’s dark eyes clouded and her chin trembled just a little. “After what happened to the Stark, we’re all concerned. You aren’t alone. But if any of us wives were to dwell on the danger, we’d soon be basket cases. I try to put it out of my mind as much as I can. I believe in Jeff, too. He’s damn good at what he does and he’s part of the most advanced naval fleet in the world. My security rests in the fact that he can take care of himself and his men. Rush can, too.”

“I haven’t told Rush how afraid I am.”

“Good.” Susan’s gentle smile was encouraging.

“I…love Rush.” The words came out hoarse and broken. She didn’t have the security Susan and the other navy wives had. Rush had done nothing more than ask her to wait for him. At most, she could be considered his girlfriend, his sweetheart. “I don’t want to lose him.” She dropped her gaze and rubbed her open hands down the front of her jeans, more fearful than ever over what the future could hold. “I’ve only known him two weeks…. I can’t believe I feel this strongly.”

“It was like that with Jeff and me. We married within a month after we met, and he left for six months in the South Pacific almost immediately afterward. Talk about worry!”

“But I thought that area was relatively peaceful.”

Susan cast an affectionate look toward her husband. “It wasn’t that. I…I was more concerned about how attractive Jeff would find those lovely Polynesian girls.”

“Oh.” Lindy hadn’t thought of that.

Susan blushed a little. “I was pregnant at the time, feeling completely miserable and about as sexy as a tuna casserole. Naturally we didn’t know it was twins and I was desperately sick every morning. The highlight of each day was when the mail was delivered. I’d wait all morning and pray there’d be a letter from Jeff. When one finally did arrive, Jeff wrote in detail, telling me about this erotic show he and Rush had managed to see while on shore leave on a small island whose name I can’t even pronounce. Topless dancers and the whole bit. I was so upset I cried for days, convinced he didn’t love me anymore, and if he did that he’d never want to make love to me again.” She pressed her hands over her small breasts. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly richly endowed in that area.”

“I’m not exactly Dolly Parton myself.”

They laughed together in an easy camaraderie, as if they’d known each other for a long time instead of just a few short hours.

“Anyway, I didn’t write back. Every time I thought about him gawking at those other women and their gorgeous boobs, I got all the more furious. Here I was, heaving my guts out every morning and my loyal, true-blue husband was living it up on shore leave on some exotic island and writing home about how randy he was.”

“I don’t blame you for not writing back. I’m not sure I would have, either.”

“Oh, Lindy,” Susan said, pressing her hand on Lindy’s forearm, her eyes wide and serious. “It was a terrible thing to do. Jeff about went crazy. He didn’t know what had happened to me, and I think it nearly broke him mentally. I got the most soul-wrenching, tormented letter from him, begging me to let him know what had happened. His mind had worked everything into such a terrible state that he was convinced I’d lost the baby—we didn’t know it was babies then—or even that I might have left him for another man. When I finally wrote and told him how unhappy I was that he’d gone to a stupid topless show he made me promise never, ever to do anything like that to him again.”

“Was Jeff here when Timmy and Tommy were born?”

Hearing their names mentioned, the twins cooed and stamped their feet, wanting out of their playpen prison. Susan was busy putting the finishing touches on the relish plate, so Lindy lifted first one and then the other, balancing them on her hips. The two were an armful, but Lindy managed, briefly wondering how Susan coped with them twenty-four hours a day.

“It worked out that Jeff was home for the birth, but we were lucky because he was scheduled for sea trials on my due date. The boys obliged us by arriving ten days early.”

Timmy wound his fingers through Lindy’s hair while Tommy took pleasure in playing with the spaghetti strap of her summer top.

“Rush is the boys’ godfather,” Susan explained. “The only times I’ve ever seen him let down his guard were with them—and then tonight with you. He’d make a wonderful father someday.”

“I think he would, too,” Lindy said, kissing the chubby cheek of each twin. The boys laughed and Timmy tried to lean over and grab a pickle from his mother’s hands.

“Just a minute, son,” Susan told him. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

To keep the pair entertained until their mother dished up their dinner plates, Lindy bounced them up and down on her hips in a jaunty, trotting step around the kitchen. She was laughing, her face flushed and happy, when she looked up to discover Rush standing on the other side of the sliding glass door, watching her.

His deep blue eyes were so intense that her breath caught in her throat. Lindy thought for a moment that she might have done something to anger him. His gaze had narrowed, but there was a light shining from it that didn’t speak of anger, but of something else, something far stronger that she couldn’t define. A muscle worked in his cheek, and he seemed to be taking in every detail of her as she bounced the chubby cherubs on her hips.

Jeff must have called him because Rush turned abruptly and left without saying a word.

“Here, I’ll take one of the boys,” Susan offered, lifting Tommy from Lindy’s hip. She carried the squirming child outside where two high chairs were positioned side by side next to the round picnic table.

Lindy followed her onto the patio and slipped Timmy into his seat.

“I learned a long time ago that it’s best to feed the boys before Jeff and I even try to eat.”

Lindy noted Susan had dished up foods her young sons could eat with their hands: chicken legs, finger-Jell-O, pickles and potato chips made up the twins’ meal.

“They’re getting so independent. They make a terrible fuss if I try to spoon-feed them anymore.”

“Can they feed themselves?”

“For the most part.” Susan was busy strapping in each toddler. “Believe me, it’s a test of patience because more food lands on the floor and wall than ever makes it into their mouths. Afterward it’s easier to squirt them down than to try to wash their hands and faces.”

Lindy laughed at the visual image of Susan holding the boys while Jeff brought around the garden hose.

Rush’s friend strolled to his wife’s side and slipped his arm around her slim waist. Susan was a full head shorter than her husband and fit neatly into his embrace. “Are you ready for me to put the steaks on the grill?”

Susan nodded and leaned her supple form against her husband. She went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss over his cheek. She paused then and smiled up at him. “Anytime you want.”

Lindy watched, fascinated by the tender exchange between husband and wife. From what little Susan had told her she knew the couple had gotten off to a rocky start. They’d worked hard to find happiness together and it showed. Jeff and Susan didn’t require words to communicate. A shared look, a soft sigh would often be all that was required. How Lindy envied them. How she wished everything was settled between her and Rush. But it wasn’t. And he’d be leaving her in just a few, intolerably short days.

* * *

They caught the nine o’clock ferry back to Seattle. Jeff dropped them off at the terminal and after Susan and Lindy had shared hugs and Lindy had kissed the boys goodbye, Lindy and Rush walked onto the waiting boat.

Although he shouldn’t have been, Rush was astonished at the way Lindy and Susan had become such fast friends. The two had talked and laughed as if they’d known each other since childhood. Now that he thought about it, the two women were quite a bit alike. Both were intelligent, sensitive and personable. And both were in love with navy men. It took a special breed of woman to fit into the military life-style, to accept the long separations, brief reunions and the fact that family must always come second in their husbands’ lives.

Both Lindy and he had come away from the evening refreshed. Jeff had given definition to the unknown emotions Rush had been dealing with the past two days. Rush had asked his friend how he managed to leave Susan and the twins and not look back—and had witnessed the instant flash of regret that shot into his friend’s eyes. Jeff had explained that the last days before he sailed were always the worst. He didn’t want to leave Susan, didn’t want to think of not being able to love her for months on end. Nor did he like to think about all that he was missing in his children’s lives. He’d been at sea when their first teeth had come in, and on sea trials when they’d taken their first steps. Now he’d be leaving them again, and his mind was crowded with everything he wasn’t going to be there to experience.

Then Jeff had asked Rush if he’d had a fight with Lindy recently. Rush’s astonishment must have shown because Jeff had laughed and said the same thing happened to him and Susan every time he found out when he’d be sailing. Like clockwork. His fault, usually. But he and Susan had made a promise to each other long ago. No matter what they fought about, they never left anything unsettled between them.

“I’m going to stand outside,” Lindy said, cutting into Rush’s thoughts. The ferry had been underway for about twenty minutes. She stood and buttoned her sweater before heading for the weather deck.

“Sure. Go ahead,” Rush answered. He didn’t mind the long ride to and from the shipyard each day. Most of the navy personnel lived in Kitsap County, across Puget Sound from Seattle. But Rush preferred the cultural advantages of living in a big city.

Rush watched as Lindy moved outside the passenger area and stood against the stern, her hands on the rail. The wind whipped the hair from her face and plastered her thin sweater against her soft curves.

Just watching Lindy, Rush felt his heart constrict. When she’d been holding Timmy and Tommy, laughing with them, bouncing the twins on her hips, Rush hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from her. The earth could have opened up and swallowed him whole and he swore he wouldn’t have been aware of it.

Seeing her with those two babies had been the most powerful, most emotional moment of his life. The sudden overwhelming physical desire for her was like a knife slicing into his skin and scraping against a bone—it had gone that deep. Not once, not even with Cheryl had he thought about children. He enjoyed Jeff’s sons. They were cute little rascals, but seeing Lindy with those babies had created a need so strong in him he doubted that his life would ever be the same again. He wanted a child. Son or daughter, he didn’t care. What did matter was that Lindy be their mother.

Even now, hours later, his eyes couldn’t get enough of her as she stood, braced against the wind. He thought about her belly swollen with his seed, her breasts full and heavy, and the desire that stabbed through him was like hot needles. The sensation curled into a tight ball in the center of his abdomen. He’d longed for her physically before now. The thought of making love to her had dominated his thoughts from the first morning he’d stumbled upon her in the bathroom wearing those sexy see-through baby-doll pajamas.

But the physical desire he was experiencing now far exceeded anything he’d previously known. And it was different in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain.

Unable to stay parted from her a minute longer, Rush left his seat and stepped outside, joining her at the railing.

Wordlessly he slipped his arm over her shoulder. Lindy looked up at him, and her eyes were unusually dark and solemn. The effort it cost her to smile was revealed in the feeble movement of her mouth.

“Lindy?”

She pressed her index finger across his lips the way she did when she didn’t want there to be questions between them. Although she strove valiantly to prevent them, tears filled her sweet, adoring gaze. Inhaling a wobbly breath, she pressed her forehead against his chest in a vain attempt to compose herself.

Rush wrapped his arms around her, needing to comfort her, feeling strangely lost as to what to say or do, and not completely understanding what was wrong. Her lithe frame molded against him and he reveled in the feel of her softness pressed to him. “Honey, what is it?”

She shook her head. “Susan said…”

“She offend you?” Rush couldn’t imagine it, and yet the anger rose in him instantly.

Lindy swiftly jerked her head from side to side. “No…no, of course not.” Her arms were around his middle now, her eyes as dry as she could make them. But her chin quivered with the effort.

She lifted a hand and touched the side of his face, her eyes full of such tenderness that it was all Rush could do to meet her gaze.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

He grinned. “I’m not likely to forget it. I nearly tossed you into the street.”

“You were perfectly horrible. So uncompromising…so unreadable.”

“So arrogant,” he added, regretting every harsh word he’d ever said to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked with a swift smile. “A good dose of healthy arrogance to put me in my place as I recall.”

He brushed the hair from her face and nodded, resisting kissing her, although it was difficult.

“I disliked you so much…. I actually looked forward to thwarting you. I could hardly wait for you to leave. And now…now I dread it. I wish I could be more like Susan. She’s so brave.”

“She’s had far more experience at this than you.” Rush searched her face, and under his scrutiny the normally cool, composed features began to quiver with unspoken anguish. He understood then. She was afraid, almost desperately so, and bravely holding it all inside. Pierced to the quick by his own thoughtlessness, he tightened his grip on her and breathed in the sweet flowery fragrance of her silky dark hair.

“Honey, nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“But…the gunboats…the missiles.”

“I’m coming back to you, Lindy.”

She brushed her hands down her cheeks to wipe away the sheen of tears. “You think I’m being silly and emotional, don’t you? This isn’t wartime, and nothing is likely to happen, but I can’t help thinking…”

He took her by the shoulders then, gripping her tightly. “No,” he said sternly, his heart filling with a mixture of concern, tenderness and understanding. His mind groped for the words to comfort her. “You’re not overreacting. It is going to be dangerous; I’m not trying to whitewash our assignment. But, Lindy, my sweet Lindy, I’ve never had anything more to live for than I do right this minute.”

“You’d better come back to me, Rush Callaghan.” She said it as though it were a fierce threat and the consequences would be dire if he didn’t.

Death was the only thing that would keep him from Lindy. Unless…The thought was as crippling to him as the fear of him dying was to Lindy. “Then you’d better be waiting for me.”

Her sturdy gaze held his and his hands slid from their grip on her shoulder to stroke her slim, swan-like neck.

“You still don’t trust my love, do you?” she asked, looking sad and disappointed.

“Yes,” he answered, nodding his head for emphasis. “I believe you.” He wasn’t sure he should—she was so young, so susceptible—but God help him, he needed everything Lindy was so generously offering him.

He took her hand and brushed his lips over her palm and then, because he couldn’t resist and didn’t give a tinker’s damn who was watching, he kissed her mouth.

* * *

It was ten by the time the Yakima docked in Seattle. The hike to the apartment was a steep climb, but the night was so gorgeous that Lindy didn’t want to hurry home. Every minute left was precious and wasting even a single one would be a crime.

“Let’s go to the park,” she suggested.

Rush looked bewildered for a moment, and asked, “What park?”

“The one here on the waterfront.”

“Whatever for?”

Lindy laughed and slapped her hand noisily against her side. “So much for romance.”

“Romance?”

“Come on, Rush. I’m finished crying. When you sail off into the sunset, I’ll be there wearing a smile. All I ask is for you to humor me a little before you go. If that means taking a short detour to look at the stars from Waterfront Park, I think you should at least be willing.”

“Lindy—” he said her name on the tail end of a sigh “—you’ve got to get up and go to work in the morning.”

She thought for a moment he might refuse her, but he didn’t. He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her in the direction of the park.

They climbed the stairs to the second level and stood at the railing, overlooking the quiet green water. The lights from Harbor Island and West Seattle flickered like moonbeams dancing in the distance.

Lindy folded her hands over the cold steel rail, Rush behind her, his chin resting on the crown of her head. “Remember the last time we were here?” Lindy asked, thinking of their wild race up the stairs and the joy she’d experienced in having bested him.

“Yes.” Rush’s low voice carried a frown.

Lindy twisted around and gazed up at him. “Why do you say it like that?”

“You called me Paul. Remember?”

It took her a second to recall that and all that had happened afterward. “Was that really such a short time ago?” It felt like years instead of just a few weeks.

“Yes.” His brow pleated with a grim look.

“No wonder you think I can’t possibly know my own heart,” she whispered, a little desperately. “No wonder you’ve never told me how you feel.”

His brows lowered even more, shadowing his face as though he’d realized he’d never said it. “I love you, Lindy.”

She closed her eyes and let the words rain down over her heart like velvety smooth flower petals, relishing each one, holding them close so she would have them later when she needed them. “I know,” she whispered, the tears back in her voice. “I just wanted to hear you say it one time before you left.”

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