Navy Brat

New York Times Bestselling Author

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Erin MacNamera had one hard and fast rule: never, never, never fall for a navy man. But, from the heart-stopping moment her eyes met Lieutenant Brandon Davis’s across a crowded lounge, Erin knew life would never be the same. Sexy, tender and strong, Brandon was all she’d ever dreamed of in a man, but he was also navy—and as a navy brat from way back, she knew better than to give her heart to a seafaring man.

When an old friend asked Brand to look up his eldest daughter, he never dreamed Erin would turn out to be a stubborn beauty who resisted him at every turn. Couldn’t she see that they were meant for each other? When Brand was called to duty, it gave him the perfect opportunity to teach his sweet Irish rose a thing or two about navy men—and love….

For Marcia, Catherine, Kathy and Pam

and others like them, who’ve picked up the pieces of their lives and taught me the

meaning of the word courage.

Special thanks to:

Gene Romano, Senior Chief Journalist, Naval Base Seattle

Barbara Davis, Kitsap County Community Action Program and The Olympic College Women in Transition Group

Plus navy wives Rose Marie Harris

Jan Evans

Contents

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

Chapter One

He was the handsomest man in the bar, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

It was all Erin MacNamera could do to keep her own coffee-brown eyes trained away from him. He sat on the bar stool, his back to the multitiered display of ornamental liquor bottles. His elbows were braced against the polished mahogany counter, and he nonchalantly held a bottle of imported German beer in his hand.

Against her will, Erin’s gaze meandered back to him. He seemed to be waiting for her attention, and he smiled, his mouth lifting sensuously at the edges. Erin quickly looked away and tried to concentrate on what her friend was saying.

“…Steve and me.”

Erin hadn’t a clue as to what she’d missed. Aimee was in the habit of talking nonstop, especially when she was upset. The reason Erin and her co-worker were meeting was that Aimee wanted to discuss the problems she was having in her ten-year marriage.

Marriage was something Erin fully intended to avoid, at least for a good long while. She was focusing her energies on her career and on teaching a class titled Women in Transition two evenings a week at South Seattle Community College. With a master’s degree clutched in her hot little hand, and her ideals and enthusiasm high, Erin had applied to and been accepted by the King County Community Action Program as an employment counselor, working mainly with displaced women. Ninety percent of those she worked with were on public assistance.

Her dream was to give hope and support to those who had lost both. A friend to the friendless. An encourager to the disheartened. Erin’s real love, however, was the Women In Transition course. In the past few years she’d watched several women undergo the metamorphosis from lost and confused individuals to purpose-filled adults holding on tight to a second chance at life.

Erin knew better than to take the credit or the blame for the transformation she saw in these women’s lives. She was just part of the Ways and Means Committee.

Her father enjoyed teasing her, claiming his eldest daughter was destined to become the next Florence Nightingale and Mother Teresa all rolled into one tenacious, determined, confident female.

Casey MacNamera was only partially right. Erin certainly didn’t see herself as any crusader, fighting against the injustices of life.

Nor was Erin fooling herself about finances. She didn’t intend to become wealthy, at least not monetarily. Nobody went into social work for the money. The hours were long and the rewards sporadic, but when she saw people’s lives turned around for good she couldn’t help being uplifted.

Helping others through a time of painful transition was what Erin had been born to do. It had been her dream from early in her college career and had followed her through graduate school and her first job.

“Erin,” Aimee said, her voice dipping to a whisper, “there’s a man at the bar staring at us.”

Erin pretended not to have noticed. “Oh?”

Aimee stirred the swizzle stick in her strawberry daiquiri, then licked the end as she stared across the room, her eyes studying the good-looking man with the imported ale. Her smile was slow and deliberate, but it didn’t last long. She sighed and said, “It’s you who interests him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m married.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Erin argued.

“Sure he does.” Aimee uncrossed her long legs and leaned across the minuscule table. “Married women give off vibes, and single men pick them up like sonar. I tried to send him a signal, but it didn’t work. He knew immediately. You, on the other hand, are giving off single vibes, and he’s zeroing in on that like a bee does pollen.”

“I’m sure you’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” Aimee agreed in a thin whisper, “but I doubt it.” She took one last sip of her drink and stood hurriedly. “I’m leaving now, and we’ll test my theory and see what happens. My guess is that the minute I’m out of here he’s going to make a beeline for you.” She paused, smiled at her own wit, then added, “The pun was an accident, clever but unintentional.”

“Aimee, I thought you wanted to talk….” Erin, however, wasn’t quick enough to convince her friend to stay. Before she’d finished, Aimee had reached for her purse. “We’ll talk some other time.” With a natural flair, she draped the strap of her imitation-snakeskin handbag over her shoulder and winked suggestively. “Good luck.”

“Ah…” Erin was at a loss as to what to do. She was twenty-seven, but for the majority of her adult life she’d avoided romantic relationships. Not by design. It had just worked out that way.

She met men frequently, but she dated only occasionally. Not once had she met a man in a bar. Cocktail lounges weren’t her scene. In her entire life she’d probably been inside one only a couple of times.

Her social life had been sadly neglected from the time she was in junior high and fell in love for the first time. Howie Riverside had asked her to the Valentine’s Day dance, and her tender young heart had been all aflutter.

Then it had happened. The way it always had. Her father, a career navy man, had been transferred, and they’d moved three days before the dance.

Somehow Erin had never quite regained her stride with the opposite sex. Of course, three moves in the next four years—unusual even for the navy—hadn’t been exactly conducive to a thriving relationship. They’d been shuffled from Alaska to Guam to Pensacola and back again.

College could have, and probably should have, been the opportunity to make up for lost time, but by then Erin had felt like a social pygmy when it came to dealing with men. She hadn’t known how to meet them, how to flirt with them or how to make small talk. Nor had she acquired a number of the other necessary graces.

“Hello.”

She hadn’t even had time to collect her thoughts, let alone her purse. Mr. Imported Beer was standing next to her table, smiling down on her like some mythological Greek god. He certainly resembled one. He was tall, naturally. Weren’t they all? Easily six-four, she guessed, and muscular. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, his brown eyes warm and friendly. He was so handsome, he might well have posed for one of those hunk calendars that were currently the rage with all the women in the office.

“Hi,” she managed, hoping she sounded a whole lot less flustered than she was feeling. Erin knew herself well, and she couldn’t imagine what it was about her that had attracted this gorgeous man.

Few would have described Erin as a beautiful sophisticate. Her features were distinctively Irish, comely and appealing, but she wasn’t anywhere close to being strikingly beautiful. Naturally long curly chestnut-red hair, straight white teeth and a smidgen of freckles across the bridge of her Gaelic nose were her most distinctive features. She was reasonably attractive, but no more so than any of the other women who populated the cocktail lounge.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Ah…sure.” She reached for her glass of Chablis and held on to it with one hand. “And you are…”

“Brandon Davis.” He claimed the chair recently vacated by Aimee. “Most folks call me Brand.”

“Erin MacNamera,” she supplied, and noticed several envious stares coming her way from the women in the crowd. Even if nothing came from this exchange, Erin couldn’t help being flattered by his attention. “Most folks call me Erin.”

He smiled.

“Is it true? Was I really giving off vibes?” she asked, surprising herself. Obviously it was the wine talking. Generally she wasn’t even close to being this direct with a man she didn’t know.

Brand didn’t answer her right away, which wasn’t any wonder. She’d probably caught him off guard, which was only fair, since he was throwing her completely off balance.

“My friend was saying men in bars pick up vibes like a radar detector,” she explained, “and I was wondering what messages I was signaling.”

“None.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help being disappointed. For a moment there, she’d thought she’d stumbled upon some latent talent she hadn’t known she possessed. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Then why were you staring at me?” He’d probably ruin everything by informing her she had a run in her nylons, or her skirt was unzipped, or something else thoroughly embarrassing.

“Because you’re Irish and it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

So much for padding her ego. Naturally. It was the in thing to be seen with an Irish girl on a day that traditionally celebrated her ancestors.

“You’re not wearing green,” he added.

“I’m not?” Erin’s gaze dropped to her blue striped business suit. She hadn’t given a thought to it being St. Patrick’s Day when she’d dressed that morning. “I’m not,” she agreed, surprised she’d forgotten something so basic to her heritage.

Brand laughed lightly, and the sound of it was so refreshing, Erin couldn’t keep from smiling herself. She didn’t know a whole lot about this sort of thing, but her best guess suggested Brand Davis wasn’t the type of man who lounged around bars picking up women. First of all, he didn’t need to. With his good looks and innate charm, women would naturally flock to him.

She decided to test her suspicion. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.” That wasn’t too surprising. Since this was her first time at the Blue Lagoon, the chances of their having crossed each other’s paths at the bar were pretty slender.

“It’s my first time.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

It took Erin a second to realize he was asking her how often she frequented the cocktail lounge. “Every now and again,” she answered, striving to sound urbane, or at least a tad more sophisticated than she’d been at age fourteen.

The waitress stepped up to the table, and before Erin could answer one way or the other Brand ordered two more of the same. Generally, one glass of wine was Erin’s limit, but she was willing to break a few rules. It wasn’t often she ran into a Greek god.

“I’m new to the area,” Brand explained before Erin could think fast enough to formulate a question.

She looked at him and smiled blandly. The wine had dulled her senses, but then, making small talk had always been difficult for her. She wished she could think of some intelligent comment to make. Instead, her gaze fell on a poster on the other side of the room, and she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“I love ferries.” Then, realizing he might think she was referring to leprechauns, she felt compelled to explain. “When I first moved to Seattle, I was enthralled by the ferryboats. Whenever I needed to think something over, I’d ride one over to Winslow or Bremerton and hash everything out in my mind.”

“It helps?”

Whatever you do, don’t let her know you’re navy. Casey MacNamera’s voice echoed in Brand’s mind like a Chinese gong. The MCPO—masterchief petty officer—was a good friend of Brand’s. They’d worked together for three years early in his career, and they’d kept in touch ever since.

As soon as Casey had learned Brand had been given his special assignment at Naval Station Puget Sound at Sand Point in Seattle, the old Irishman had contacted him, concerned about his eldest daughter.

She’s working too hard, not taking care of herself. Give an old man some peace of mind and check up on her. Only, for the love of heaven, don’t let her know I sent you.

Personally, Brand wasn’t much into this detective business. But, as a favor to his friend, he’d reluctantly agreed to look up Erin MacNamera.

He’d been ready to enter her office building when she’d stepped outside. Brand had never met Casey’s daughter, but one look at that thick thatch of auburn hair and he’d immediately known that this woman was a close relative of his friend. So he’d followed her into the Blue Lagoon.

He studied her for several minutes, noticing little things about her. She was delicate. Not dainty or fragile, as the word implied. Erin MacNamera was exquisite. That wasn’t a word he used often. Her gaze had met his once, and he’d managed to hold her look for just a second. She’d stared back at him, surprise darkening her eyes, before she’d jerked her gaze away. When he’d stepped up to her table, she’d been flustered, and she’d striven hard not to show it.

The more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her that amazed him. Brand wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected from Casey’s daughter, but certainly not the enchanting red-haired beauty who sat across from him. Erin was as different from her old man as silk was from leather. Casey was a potbellied, boisterous MCPO, while his daughter was a graceful creature with eyes as shiny and dark as the sea at midnight.

Another thing, Casey had warned. Remember, this is my daughter, not one of your cupcakes.

Brand couldn’t help grinning at that. He didn’t have cupcakes. At thirty-two, he couldn’t say he’d never been in love. He’d fallen in love a handful of times over the years, but there had never been one woman who’d captured his heart for more than a few months. None that he’d ever seriously considered spending the rest of his life with.

Be careful what you say, Casey had advised. My Erin’s got her mother’s temper.

Brand didn’t feel good about this minor deception. The sensation intensified as they sat and talked over their drinks. An hour after he’d sat down with her, Erin glanced at her watch and flatly announced she had to be leaving.

As far as Brand was concerned, his duty was done. He’d looked up his friend’s daughter, talked to her long enough to assure her father, when he wrote next, that Erin was in good health. But when she stood to leave, Brand discovered he didn’t want her to go. He’d thoroughly enjoyed her company.

“How about dinner?” he found himself asking.

Twin spots of color appeared in her cheeks, and her eyes darkened slightly as though she’d been caught off guard. “Ah…not tonight. Thanks anyway.”

“Tomorrow?”

Her silence didn’t fool him. She appeared outwardly calm, as if she were considering his invitation, but Brand could feel the resistance radiating from her. That in itself was unusual. Women generally were eager to date him.

“No thanks.” Her soft smile took any sting out of her rejection—or at least it was meant to. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

She stood, smiled sweetly and tucked her purse under her arm. “Thanks for the drink.”

Before Brand had time to respond, she was out the door. He couldn’t remember a woman turning him down in fifteen years of dating. Not once. Most members of the opposite sex treated him as if he were Prince Charming. He’d certainly gone out of his way to be captivating to MacNamera’s daughter.

Who the hell did she think she was?

Standing, Brand started out the cocktail lounge after her. She was halfway down the block on the sidewalk, her pace clipped. Brand ran a few steps, then slowed to a walk. Soon his stride matched hers.

“Why?”

She paused and looked up at him, revealing no surprise that he’d joined her.

“You’re navy.”

Brand was shocked, and he did a poor job of disguising it. “How’d you know?”

“I was raised in the military. I know the lingo, the jargon.”

“I didn’t use any.”

“Not consciously. It was more than that…the way you held your beer bottle should have told me, but it was when we started talking about the ferries crossing Puget Sound that I knew for sure.”

“So I’m navy. Is that so bad?”

“No. Actually, with most women it’s a plus. From what I understand, a lot of females go for guys in uniform. You won’t have any problems meeting someone. Bremerton? Sand Point? Or Whidbey Island?”

Brand ignored the question of where he was stationed and instead asked one of his own. “Most women are attracted to a man in uniform, but not you?”

Her eyes flickered, and she laughed curtly. “Sorry. It lost its appeal when I was around six.”

She was walking so fast that he was losing his breath just keeping up with her. “Do you hate the navy so much?”

His question apparently caught her by surprise, because she stopped abruptly, turned to him and raised wide brown eyes to study him. “I don’t hate it at all.”

“But you won’t even have dinner with someone in the service?”

“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude. You seem like a perfectly nice—”

“You’re not being rude. I’m just curious, is all.” He glanced around them. They’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on a busy street in downtown Seattle. Several people were forced to walk around them. “I really would be interested in hearing your views. How about if we find a coffee shop and sit down and talk?”

She looked at her watch pointedly.

“This isn’t dinner. Just coffee.” Unwilling to be put off quite so easily a second time, Brand gifted her with one of his most dazzling smiles. For the majority of his adult life, women had claimed he had a smile potent enough to melt the polar ice cap. He issued it now, full strength, and waited for the usual results.

Nothing.

This woman was downright dangerous to his ego. He tried another tactic. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re causing something of a traffic jam here.”

“I’ll pay for my own coffee,” she insisted in a tone that implied she was going against her better judgment to agree to talk to him at all.

“If you insist.”

The lunch counter at Woolworth’s was still open, and they shared a tiny booth designed for two. While the waitress delivered their coffee, Brand reached for a menu, reading over the list of sandwiches. The picture of the turkey, piled high with lettuce and tomato slices between thick slices of bread, looked appetizing, and he reluctantly set it aside.

“Officer?” Erin asked, studying him while he stirred cream into his coffee.

“Adding cream to my coffee told you that?” Casey’s daughter ought to be in intelligence. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

“No. The way you talk. The way you act. Lieutenant j.g. would be my guess?”

He was impressed again. “How’d you know that?”

“Your age. What are you, thirty? Thirty-one?”

“Thirty-two.” This was getting to be downright embarrassing. He’d climbed through the ranks at the normal rate of speed and received a number of special assignments over the years. Since the navy was considering closing down its station at Sand Point, Brand had been sent by the admiral to conduct a feasibility survey. His duties in the area would last only a few weeks. Most of that time had already been spent.

“I take it you weren’t raised in the navy?” Erin questioned.

“No.”

“I might have guessed.”

She sure as hell was batting a thousand with those guesses of hers. Her eyes briefly met his, and Brand was struck once more by how hauntingly dark they were. A spark, a hint of pain—something he couldn’t quite name—touched an emotional chord deep within him.

“Listen,” she said softly, regretfully, “it’s been interesting talking to you, but I should have been home an hour ago.” She was ready to stand when Brand reached across the table and gripped her hand.

The action was as much a shock to Brand as it was to her. She raised her head a fraction of an inch so that their eyes could meet. Hers were wide and questioning, his…he didn’t know. Unrelenting, stubborn, he guessed. Brand wasn’t thinking clearly, and hadn’t been from the moment he’d followed her into the Blue Lagoon.

“We haven’t talked.”

“There isn’t any need to. You weren’t raised in the military. I was. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like unless you were carted from one corner of the world to another.”

“I’d love it.”

Her smile was sardonic. “Most men do.”

“I want to see you again.”

She didn’t hesitate, didn’t think about it. Nor did she delay answering. “No.”

“I apologize if I’m bruising your ego,” she added, “but frankly, I promised myself a long time ago to stay away from men in the military. It’s a hard-and-fast rule I live by. Trust me, it’s nothing personal.”

Brand sure as hell was taking it personally. “I don’t even tempt you?”

She hesitated and smiled gently before tugging her hand free from his grasp. “A little,” she admitted.

Brand had the feeling she was saying that to cater to his pride, which she’d managed to bruise every time she’d opened her mouth.

“As far as looks go, you’ve got an interesting face.”

An interesting face. Didn’t she know handsome when she saw it? Women had made pests of themselves in an effort to attract his attention for years. Some of his best friends had even admitted they hesitated before introducing him to their girlfriends.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said stiffly.

“It isn’t necessary, I—”

“I said I’d walk you to your car.” He stood and slapped two dollar bills on the table. Brand liked to think of himself as a tolerant man, but this woman was getting under his skin, and he didn’t like it. Not one damn bit. There were plenty of fish in the sea, and he was far more interested in lobster than he was in Irish stew.

Erin MacNamera wasn’t even that attractive. Hell, he wouldn’t even be seeing her if he wasn’t doing a favor for her father. If she didn’t want to see him again, fine. Great. Wonderful. He could live with that. What Erin had said earlier was true enough. Women went for guys in uniform.

He was attractive. He wore a uniform.

He didn’t need Erin MacNamera.

Satisfied with that, he held open the glass door that led outside.

“This really isn’t necessary,” she whispered.

“Probably not, but as an officer and a gentleman I insist.”

“My father’s an enlisted man.”

She announced the fact as if she were looking for some response.

“So?” he demanded.

“So…I just wanted you to know that.”

“Do you think that’s going to make me change my mind about walking you to your car?”

“No.” Her hands were buried in her pockets. “I…just wanted you to know. It might make a difference to some men.”

“Not me.”

She nodded. “My car’s in the lot near Yesler.”

Brand didn’t know Seattle well, but he knew enough to recognize that that area of town wasn’t the best place for a woman to be walking alone at night. He was glad he’d insisted on escorting her to her car, although even now he wasn’t completely sure of his motives.

They turned off the main street and onto a small, narrower one that sloped sharply down to the Seattle waterfront.

“You park here often?” As prickly as she was, Erin would probably resent his pointing out the all-too-obvious dangers of the area.

“Every day, but generally I’m gone shortly after five. It’s still light then.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” she said with a sigh, “I met you.”

Brand nodded. He found the parking lot, which by now was nearly deserted. The spaces were tightly angled between two brick buildings. The entire lot was illuminated by a single dim light.

Erin pulled her keys from her purse and clenched them in her hands. “My car is the one in the back,” she explained.

Brand’s gaze located the small blue Toyota in the rear of the lot, facing a two-story brick structure. Once more he was forced to swallow a chastising warning.

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but I’m grateful you walked with me.”

A small—damn small—sense of satisfaction filled him. “You’re welcome.”

She inserted the key into the driver’s door and unlocked her car. Pausing, she glanced up at him and smiled shyly.

Brand looked down on the slender young woman at his side and read her confusion and her regret. The desire to pull her close was so strong that it was nearly impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry the navy hurt you.”

“It didn’t. Not as much as I led you to believe. I just want to be on the safe side. For the first time in my life I have a real home with real furniture that I purchased without thinking about how well it would travel.” She hesitated and smiled. “I don’t worry about being transferred every other year, and—” She hesitated again and shook her head as though to suggest he wouldn’t understand. “I apologize if I wounded your ego. You’re really very nice.”

“A kiss would go a long way toward repairing the damage.” Brand couldn’t believe he’d suggested that, but what the hell. Why not?

“A kiss?”

Brand nearly laughed out loud at the shocked look that came over her features. It was downright comical, as if she’d never been kissed before, or at least it had been a good long while. Not taking the time to decide which it was, he cradled her face between his large hands.

Her mouth was moist and parted, welcoming. Her eyes weren’t. They were filled with doubts, but he chose to ignore her unspoken questions, fearing that if he took the time to reassure her he’d talk himself out of kissing her.

Brand wanted this kiss.

If Erin had questions, he was experiencing a few of his own. She was his friend’s daughter, and he was risking Casey’s wrath with this little game. But none of that seemed to matter. What did concern him was the woman staring boldly up at him.

Tenderness filled him. A strange tenderness, one he didn’t fully understand or recognize. Slowly he lowered his mouth to hers. He felt her go tense with anticipation as their lips clung.

She was soft, warm and incredibly sweet. He opened his mouth a little more, slanting his lips over hers as he plowed his fingers through her thick hair.

Her first response was tentative, as if she’d been caught unprepared, but then she sighed and sagged against him. She flattened her hands over his chest, then flexed her fingers, her long nails scraping his sweater.

Gradually she opened to him, like a hothouse flower blossoming in his arms. Yet it was she who broke the contact. Her eyes were wide and soft as she stared up at him. A feeling of surprise and tenderness and need washed through him.

“I…was just thinking,” she said in a lacy whisper.

Just now, thinking could be dangerous. Brand knew that from experience. He silenced her with a kiss that was so thorough it left them both trembling in its aftermath.

Once again, Erin was clinging to him, her hands gripping the V of his sweater as if she needed to hold on to something in order to remain upright.

“The rules you have about dating military men?” he asked, rubbing his open mouth over her honeyed lips. “How about altering them?”

“Altering them?” she echoed slowly, her eyes closed.

He kissed her again for good measure. “Make it a guideline instead,” he suggested.

Chapter Two

As an adult, Erin had made several decisions about how she intended to live her life. She followed the Golden Rule, and she never used her credit cards if she couldn’t pay off the balance the following month.

And she didn’t date men in the military.

Her life wasn’t encumbered with a lot of restrictions. Everything that was important and necessary was wrapped up in these relatively simple rules.

Then why, she asked herself, had she agreed to have dinner with Brand Davis? Lieutenant Davis, J.G., she reminded herself disparagingly.

“Why?” she repeated aloud, stacking papers against the edge of her desk with enough force to bend them in half.

“Heavens, don’t ask me,” Aimee answered, grinning impishly. After a day spent interviewing job applicants, talking aloud to oneself was an accepted form of behavior.

“I’m supposed to meet him tonight, you know,” Erin said in a low, thought-filled voice. If there had been an easy way out of this, she’d have grabbed it.

If only Brand hadn’t kissed her. No one had ever told her kissing could be so…so pleasant. First her knees had gone weak, and then her formidable will of iron had melted and pooled at her feet. Before she’d even realized what she was doing, she’d mindlessly walked into Brand’s trap. It was just like a navy man to zero in on her weakest point and attack.

Rolling her antique oak chair away from her desk, Aimee relaxed against its rail back and angled her head to one side as she studied Erin. “Are you still lamenting the fact you agreed to have dinner with that gorgeous hunk? Honey, trust me in this, you should be counting your blessings.”

“He’s military.”

“I know.” Aimee rotated a pen between her hands as she gazed dreamily into the distance. A contented look stole over her features as she released a long-drawn-out sigh. “I can just picture him in a uniform, standing at attention. Why, it’s enough to make my heart go pitter-patter.”

Erin refused to look at her friend. If Aimee wanted Brand, she was welcome to him. Of course, her friend wasn’t truly interested, since she was already married to Steve and had been for a decade. “If I could think of a plausible excuse to get out of this, I would.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

She wasn’t. “You have dinner with him.”

Aimee shook her head eagerly. “Trust me, if I were five years younger I’d take you up on that.”

Since Aimee’s marriage was going through some rocky times, Erin didn’t think it was necessary to remind her friend that dating wasn’t something that should interest her.

“Relax, would you?” Aimee admonished her.

“I can’t.” Erin tucked her stapler and several pens neatly inside her desk drawer. “As far as I’m concerned, this evening is going to be a total waste of time.” She could be doing something important, like…like laundry or answering mail. It was just her luck that Brand had suggested Wednesday night. Tuesday was the first class for the new session for the Women In Transition course. Thursday night was the second session. Naturally, Brand had chosen to ask her out the one night of the week when she was free.

“You’re so tense,” Aimee chastised. “You might as well be walking around in a suit of armor.”

“I’ll be okay,” Erin said, not listening to her fellow worker. She stood and planted her hands against the side of her desk before sighing heavily. “This is what I’m going to do. I’ll meet him just the way we arranged.”

“That’s a good start,” Aimee teased.

“We’ll find a restaurant, and I’ll order right away, eat and then make my excuses as soon as I can. I don’t want to insult him, but at the same time I want him to understand I regret ever having agreed to this date.” She waited for a response. When Aimee didn’t give her one, she arched her brows expectantly. “Well?”

“It sounds good to me.” But the look Aimee gave her said otherwise.

It was amazing how much a person could say with a look. Erin didn’t want to take the time to dwell on the fact, especially now, when she was thinking about the messages she’d given Brand the night he’d kissed her. Apparently she’d encouraged him enough to ask her out to dinner a second time.

Erin didn’t want to dwell on that night. It embarrassed her to think about the way she’d responded so openly to his touch. Her face grew hot just remembering. She shouldn’t think about it—she was running late as it was. Reaching for her purse, she checked her watch and hurried toward the elevator.

“Don’t get started in the morning until we’ve had a chance to talk,” Aimee called out after her.

They generally clocked in at eight, reviewed files and then spent a large portion of the day with job applicants or meeting with prospective employers. Sometimes she wasn’t back in the office until after four.

“I won’t,” Erin promised without looking back. Walking briskly, she raised her hand in farewell.

“Have a good time,” Aimee called out in a provocative, teasing tone that attracted the notice of their peers.

This time Erin did turn back to discover her coworker sitting on the edge of her desk, her arms folded, one leg swinging. A mischievous grin brightened her round, cheerful face.

But Erin wasn’t counting on this evening being much fun.

Once outside the revolving glass door of the tall office complex, Erin paused and glanced around. Brand had said he’d be waiting for her there. She didn’t see him right away, and she was beginning to think he wasn’t going to show.

It must have been wishful thinking on her part, because no sooner had the thought entered her mind than he stepped away from the building and sauntered toward her.

His gaze found hers, and Erin was struck afresh by what a devilishly handsome man Brandon Davis was. If she wasn’t careful, she might find herself attracted to him. She wasn’t immune to good looks and charm, and they seemed to ooze from every pore of his muscular body.

“Hi,” she greeted stiffly. Her defenses were in place as she deliberately kept her eyes trained away from his smile. It was compelling enough to dazzle the most stouthearted. Erin hadn’t had enough experience with the opposite sex to build up a resistance to a man like Brand.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he said when he reached her side.

“I wasn’t sure I would, either.” That was stretching the truth. She was a navy brat. Responsibility, promptness and duty had been programmed into her the way most children were taught to brush their teeth and make their beds. No one could live on a military base and not be affected by the value system promoted there.

“I’m glad you did decide to meet me.” His eyes were warm and genuine, and she hurriedly looked away before she could be affected by them.

“Where would you like to eat?” To Erin’s way of thinking, the sooner they arrived at the restaurant, the sooner she could leave. She wanted this evening to be cut-and-dried, without a lot of room for discussion.

“Ever been to Joe’s Grill?”

Erin’s gaze widened with delight. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have, but it’s been years.” Since she was ten by her best guess. Her father had been stationed at Sand Point, and whenever there was something to celebrate he’d taken the family out to eat at Joe’s. Generally restaurants weren’t something a child would remember, but it seemed her family had a special place in each of the cities where they’d been stationed through the years. Joe’s Grill had been their Seattle favorite.

“I asked around and heard the food there is great,” Brand said, placing his hand at her elbow.

She felt his touch, and although it was light and impersonal it still affected her. “You mean the guys from Sand Point still eat there?”

“Apparently so.”

A flood of happy memories filled Erin’s mind. For her tenth birthday, Joe himself had baked her a double-decker chocolate cake. She could still remember him proudly carrying it out of the kitchen as if he’d been asked to give away the bride. Visiting the restaurant had crossed her mind half a dozen times since she’d moved to Seattle, but with her hectic schedule she hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Joe’s Grill,” she repeated, fighting the strong desire to fill in the details about her birthday and the cake to Brand. Her eyes met his, and mutual smiles emerged, despite Erin’s attempts to the contrary. She had to keep her head out of the clouds when it came to dealing with this handsome lieutenant j.g. Reminding herself of that was apparently something that was going to be necessary all evening.

Brand’s car was parked on a side street. He held open the passenger door for her and gently closed it once she was inside.

He did most of the talking as he drove to the restaurant. Every once in a while Erin would feel herself start to relax in his company, a sure sign she was headed for trouble. She’d give herself a hard mental shake and instantly put herself back on track.

When Brand eased the vehicle into Joe’s crowded parking lot, Erin looked around her and nearly drowned in nostalgia. She swore the restaurant hadn’t changed in nearly twenty years. The same neon sign flashed from above the flat-topped roof, with a huge T-bone steak lit up in red and Joe’s Grill flashing off and on every two seconds.

“As I recall, the steaks here are so thick they resemble roasts, and the baked potatoes were larger than a boxer’s fist.” She was confident that was an exaggeration, but in her ten-year-old mind that was the way it seemed.

“That’s what my friend said,” Brand said, climbing out of the car.

The inside was much as Erin remembered. A huge fish tank built into the wall was filled with a wide variety of colorful saltwater fish. The cash register rested on top of a large glass display case full of tempting candy and gum. Erin never had understood why a restaurant that served wonderful meals would want to sell candy to its customers afterward.

The hostess escorted them to a table by a picture window that revealed a breath-taking panorama of Lake Union.

Erin didn’t open her menu right away. Instead, she looked around, soaking up the ambience, feeling as if she were a kid all over again.

“This reminds me of a little place on Guam,” Brand said, his gaze following hers. “The tables have the same red tablecloths under a glass covering.”

“Not…” She had to stop and think.

“The Trattoria,” Brand supplied.

“Yes.” Erin was impressed he’d even heard of it, but then he probably had since everyone stationed on Guam ate there at one time or another. “They serve a clam spaghetti my father swore he would die for. My mom tried for years to duplicate the recipe and finally gave up. Who would ever believe a tiny restaurant on the island of Guam would serve the best Italian food in the world?”

“Better even than Miceli’s in Rome?” he probed.

“You’ve been to Miceli’s?” she asked excitedly. Obviously he had, otherwise he wouldn’t have mentioned it. The fresh-from-the-oven-bread was what she remembered about Miceli’s. The aroma would drift through the narrow cobblestoned streets of the Italian town like nothing Erin had ever known. Her stomach growled just thinking about it.

“I’ve been in the navy nearly fifteen years,” he reminded her.

Mentioning the fact that he was navy was like slapping a cold rag across her face and forcing her back to reality. Her reaction was immediate. She reached for the menu, jerked it open and decided what she intended to order in three seconds flat. She looked up, hoping to catch the waitress’s eye.

“I can’t decide if I’m hungry enough for the T-bone or not,” Brand remarked conversationally. He glanced over the menu a second time before looking to her. “You’ve decided?”

“Yes. I’ll have the peppercorn filet.”

Brand nodded, apparently saluting her choice. “That sounds good. I’ll have the same.”

“No,” Erin said, surprised by how adamant she sounded. “Have the T-bone. It’s probably the best of any place in town. And since you’re only going to be in Seattle a few weeks, you really should sample Joe’s specialty.”

“All right, I will.” Brand smiled at her, and Erin’s heart started to pound like a giant sledgehammer, a fact she chose to ignore.

The waitress arrived to take their order, and Brand suggested a bottle of wine.

“No, thanks, none for me,” Erin said quickly. After what had happened the night they’d met, she’d considered living her entire life without drinking wine again. It was probably ridiculous to blame two glasses of Chablis for the eager way she’d responded to Brand’s kisses. But it was an excuse, and she badly needed one. She certainly wasn’t looking for a repeat performance. Her objective was to get through this dinner, thank Brand and then go her own way. Naturally she wanted them to part with the understanding she didn’t ever intend to date him again. But she wanted to be sure he realized it was nothing personal.

The conversation that followed was polite, if a tad stilted. Erin’s hand circled the water glass, and her gaze flittered across the restaurant, gathering in the memories.

“I made a mistake,” Brand announced out of the blue, capturing her attention. “I shouldn’t have reminded you I’m navy. You were enjoying yourself until then.”

Erin lowered her gaze to the red linen napkin in her lap. “Actually, I’m grateful. It’s far too easy to forget with you.” As she spoke, Erin could hear a thread of resentment and fear in her own voice.

“I was hoping we might be able to forget about that.”

“No,” she answered, softly, regretfully. “I can’t allow myself to forget. You’re here for how long? Two, three weeks?” She asked this as a reminder to herself of how foolish it would be to become involved with Brand.

“Two weeks.”

“That’s what I thought.” Her gaze drifted toward the kitchen in a silent appeal to the chef to hurry with their order. The more time she spent with Brand, the more susceptible she was to his charm. He was everything she feared. Appealing. Attractive. Charming. She was beginning to hate that word, but it seemed to fit him so well.

He asked her about the places she’d lived, and she answered him as straightforwardly as she could, trying not to let the resentment seep into her voice. Her answers were abridged, clipped.

Their meal arrived, and none too soon, as far as Erin was concerned.

Brand’s steak was delicious. As delicious as Erin had promised, cooked to perfection. He didn’t know what to make of Erin MacNamera, however. Hell, he didn’t know what to make of himself. She’d made her views on seeing him plain enough. He didn’t know what it was about her that affected him so strongly. The challenge, perhaps. There weren’t many women who turned him down flat the way she had.

The challenge was there, he’d admit that, but it was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whatever it was, Erin was driving him crazy.

They’d agreed to meet outside her office building, and Brand had half expected her to stand him up. When she had shown, he’d noted regretfully that it wasn’t out of any desire to spend time with him. At first she’d been tense. They’d started talking, and she’d lowered her guard and been beginning to relax. Then he’d blown it by reminding her he was in the navy.

From that point on he might as well have been sitting across the table from a robot. He’d asked her something, and she’d answered him with one-word replies or by simply shrugging her shoulders. After a while he’d given up the effort. If she wanted conversation with her dinner, then she could damn well carry it on her own.

It didn’t come as any surprise to Brand that she was ready to leave the minute they finished. He collected the bill, left a generous tip and escorted Erin to the car.

“Are you parked at the same lot off Yesler?” he asked once they were in traffic.

“Yes. You can drop me off there, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Brand noted that she sounded downright eager to part company with him. This woman was definitely a detriment to his ego. Fine, he got the message. He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d even suggested this dinner date. As Erin had taken pains to remind him, he would be in Seattle only a couple of weeks. The implication being that he’d be out of her life forever then. Apparently that was exactly what she wanted.

In retrospect, Brand was willing to admit why he’d asked her out to dinner.

It was the kiss.

Her response, so tentative in the beginning, so hesitant and unsure, had thrown him for a loop. If Casey was ever to find out Brand had kissed his red-haired daughter, there would be hell to pay. The sure wrath of his friend hadn’t altered the fact Brand had wanted to kiss Erin. And kiss her he had, until his knees had been knocking and his heart had been roaring like a runaway train.

What had started out as a challenge had left him depleted and shaken. Numb with surprise and wonder. Erin had flowered in his arms like a rare tropical plant. She was incredibly sweet, and so soft that he’d been forced to use every ounce of restraint he possessed not to crush her in his arms.

This dinner date was a different story. She could hardly wait to get out of his car. Fine. He’d let her go, because frankly he wasn’t much into cultivating a relationship with a woman who clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He pulled off First Avenue onto the lot and left the engine running, hoping she’d get his message, as well.

Her hand was already closed around the door handle. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” was his stiff reply. His tone bordered on the sarcastic, but if she noticed she didn’t comment.

“I’m sorry I was such poor company.”

He didn’t claim otherwise. She hesitated, and for a wild moment Brand thought she might lean over and gently kiss him goodbye. It would have been a nice gesture on her part.

She didn’t.

Instead she scooted out of the car, fiddled with the snap of her purse and retrieved her key chain, all while he sat waiting for her. When she’d opened the door to her Toyota, she twisted around and smiled sadly, as if she wanted to say something more. She didn’t, however. She just climbed inside resolutely.

Brand had to back up his car in order for her to pull out of the parking space. He did so with ease, reversing his way directly into the street. She came out after him and headed in the opposite direction.

His hand tightened around the steering wheel as she drove off into the night.

“Goodbye, Erin. We might have been friends,” he murmured, and regret settled over his shoulders like a heavy wool jacket.

Once he was back at his room in the officers’ quarters, Brand showered and climbed into bed. He read for a while, but the novel, which had been touted as excellent, didn’t hold his interest. After fifteen minutes, he turned out the light.

He should have kissed her.

The thought flashed through his mind like a shot from a ray gun.

Hell, no. It was apparent Erin didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Wonderful. Great. He was man enough to accept her decision.

Forcefully, he punched up the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

Before he realized what he was doing, a slight smile curved his lips. She should count herself lucky he hadn’t taken it upon himself to prove her wrong and kiss her again. If he had, she would have been putty in his hands, just the way she had been the first time. Erin MacNamera might well have believed she had the situation under control, but she hadn’t. She’d been tense and uneasy, and for no other reason than the fear that Brand was going to take her in his arms again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew exactly what he intended to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t need to. I understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen an attorney?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you again.”

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

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

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

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

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

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

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

Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I…I’m going to take that tour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look surprised to hear from me.”

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

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

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

“Are you free tomorrow?”

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

“I’d ask you out again later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That surprises you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where were you stationed afterward?”

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

“You hated it there?”

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

“How long?”

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

“Did you ever take picnics on Guam?”

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

“And how did you enjoy those?”

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

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

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

“Anywhere you want.”

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

“Erin?”

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

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

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

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

“No…”

“I thought you did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Anyplace around here will do,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The turkey,” she answered.

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

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

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

“What was that?”

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

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

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

“Centered herself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s she handling it?”

“It’s hard to tell. We’re only two classes into the course, but as I said before, she’s shaky and fragile. Time will help.”

“My parents were divorced.” Brand seldom spoke of his family, and even more rarely of the trauma that had ripped his life apart at such a tender age. “I was just a kid at the time.”

“Was it bad?”

He answered her with a short nod. Without a doubt, it was the worst ordeal Brand could ever remember happening to him. His whole world had been shattered. He’d become a weapon to be used against one parent or the other. And he’d only been eleven at the time. Far too young to understand, far too old to cry.

“I rarely saw my father afterward. Every time he and my mother were in the same room together, they’d start arguing. My guess is that it was easier for him to move as far away as possible than to deal with her.”

“So when he divorced your mother, he divorced you, too?”

Once again, Brand responded with a short nod. His life had been filled with one trauma after another after his father had moved out of the state. A year or two later, when his mother had remarried, all communication and child support had stopped. Brand had been made to feel guilty for every bit of food he ate or each pair of shoes he outgrew. While attending college, he’d become involved in the officers’ training program offered by the navy. His life had changed from that moment forward. For the better.

Brand found security and acceptance in the navy. What the military had given him, it had taken away from Erin. He understood her complaints well. She hated moving, never planting roots or building lasting relationships. Brand thrived on the security. The navy was his home. The navy was his life. No one would ever take that away from him. There would always be a navy. Budget cuts hurt, bases were being closed down all across the country and military spending was being decreased, but he was secure, more secure than he had been since childhood.

“But I have a feeling about Margo,” Erin continued. “She’s far stronger than she realizes. That knowledge will come in time, but she may travel some rough waters before this ordeal is finished.”

“You’re strong, too.”

Erin leaned her head to examine his face, and Brand took advantage of the moment to press his hands gently to her rosy cheeks. Her eyes found his, and he read her confusion as clearly as he viewed her eagerness. She wanted this kiss as much as he wanted to kiss her.

Gently he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was deep and thorough, his lips sliding across hers with unhurried ease and a familiarity that belied their experience. Slowly he lifted his head and drew in a deep, stabilizing breath. A bolt of sizzling electricity arched between them.

“Oh, damn,” Erin whispered, sounding very much as if she were about to weep. Her eyes remained closed, and Brand was tempted to kiss her moist lips a second time. In fact, he had to restrain himself from doing so.

“Damn?”

“I was afraid of this.” Her words were hoarse, as if she were having trouble speaking. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up longingly at him. Irish eyes. Sweet Irish eyes.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, just before he kissed her a second time. And a third. A fourth. His hands were in her hair, loving the silky feel of it as he ran his fingers through the lengthy curls.

Gradually he felt her opening up to him, like the satin petals of a rosebud. Either she’d had poor teachers or she was inexperienced in the art of kissing. Brand didn’t know which, didn’t care.

Positioned as they were against the tree, he couldn’t get close enough to her. The need to cradle her softness grew until every part of his body ached. He wanted her beneath him, warm and willing. Open and sweet.

With their mouths joined, he rolled away from the tree, taking her with him. Erin gave a small cry of alarm, and when she opened her mouth he groaned and thrust his tongue deep into the moist warmth.

She rebelled for a moment, not having expected this new intimacy. It took her a second to adjust before she responded, meekly at first, by giving him her tongue. They touched, stroked and played against each other in an erotic game until Brand deepened the kiss to a level neither of them would be able to tolerate for long.

Her hands clenched his shirt, and Brand wondered if she could feel how hard and fiercely his heart was beating. He could feel hers, excited and chaotic, pounding against his chest. Her pulse wasn’t the only thing he could feel. Her nipples had pearled and stood out. The need to slip his hand under her sweater and fill his palm with her breast ate at him like lye. He couldn’t…not here.

He longed to feel her and taste her. Sweet heaven, if he didn’t stop now he’d end up really frightening her. He probably had already. He was as hard as concrete against her thigh. The way they were lying, there wasn’t any way he could hide what she was doing to him. Only years of training and self-discipline kept him still. He longed to rotate his hips to help ease the terrible ache in his loins.

He kissed Erin again, struggling within himself to take it slow and easy. His mouth gentled over hers, in sharp contrast to the wild, uncontrolled kisses they’d shared seconds earlier. She groaned and moved against him, causing Brand to moan himself. His innocent Irish miss hadn’t a clue of the torment she was putting him through. Dear heaven, she was sweet. So warm and moist.

Brand had fully intended to cool their lovemaking, but he made a single tactical error that was nearly his undoing. Just because a kiss was gentle, it didn’t make it any less sensual, or any less devastating.

By the time Brand lifted his head, he was weak, depleted, yet at the same time exhilarated. Shocked eyes stared up at him. He smiled and noted how the edges of her delectable mouth quivered slightly.

She raised her hand, and her fingertips grazed his face. Her touch was as smooth and light as a velvet glove. Unable to resist, Brand kissed her again.

“Are you going to say damn again?” he teased.

Her grin widened. “No.”

“But you should?”

She nodded, then closed her eyes and slowly expelled her breath. “I don’t know how this happened.”

“You don’t?”

“I’d hoped…”

He pressed a finger across her lips. “I know what you hoped! You couldn’t have picked a more public place and for obvious reasons, which I fear have backfired on us both. As it is, I may have to lie on my belly the rest of the afternoon.”

“You will?” As the meaning of his words sank into her brain, Erin’s cheeks blossomed with color. “I…I shouldn’t have said anything.” As if she needed something to occupy her hands, she reached for one of the oranges, peeling it open. She held out a dripping slice to him. “Want one?”

Sitting with his legs folded in front of him, Brand nodded. He thought Erin meant to hand it to him, but instead she leaned forward to feed him personally. Her eyes were locked with his. A second slice followed the first, but when the juice flowed from the edge of his mouth she bent toward him and licked it away.

When her tongue scraped the side of his lips, Brand’s heart went still. She offered him another slice, but he took it from her fingers and fed it to her. He watched as she chewed and swallowed, and then he leaned forward to kiss her. She tasted of orange and woman. He deepened the kiss and was gratified when she opened up to him in excited welcome. His tongue swept her mouth in slow, even strokes, conquering as it plundered.

Erin looped her arms around his neck and melted in his arms. “I promised myself this wouldn’t happen.”

“And now that it has?” He angled his head to one side and dropped a series of long, slow kisses on her neck, working his way under her chin and to her ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

The satisfaction that one word gave him was worth a thousand from anyone else. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Why?” How afraid she sounded.

His mouth hovered a scant inch from hers. “Because there are other places I want to kiss you, and I don’t think you’d appreciate me doing so in public.”

His lips inched back to hers in breath-stealing increments. The closer his mouth edged toward hers, the choppier her breath became.

“Brand…I don’t think this is such a good—”

He silenced any protest with a hot, need-filled kiss. She welcomed his tongue, and was panting by the time he dragged his mouth from hers.

“Come on,” he said, vaulting to his feet. He reached for her hand, pulling her upright. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where…will we go?”

“Your place.”

“Brand…I don’t know.”

He turned and planted his hands squarely on her shoulders, his eyes refusing to release hers. “I’m not going to make love to you, yet. That’s a promise. We need to talk, and when we do, I want it to be in private.”

She might have had objections to the high-handed manner in which he was issuing orders, but she didn’t voice any. Nor did she speak while he drove to her house in West Seattle, although the ride took nearly thirty minutes. The only words she did manage were to relay her address and give directions once he was in the vicinity.

It wasn’t until he helped her out of the car that she did chance a look in his direction. Brand had to smile. Her eyes seemed so round and wide, an aircraft carrier could have sailed through them.

“He said yet, you idiot.” She repeated the sentence two or three times once they were inside the house. Brand found it amusing the way she talked to herself. Without telling him what she was doing, she walked, as if in a daze, into the kitchen and started assembling a pot of coffee.

Brand hadn’t a clue what she was mumbling about. He wasn’t interested in coffee, either, but since she hadn’t asked him, he didn’t say so.

“There’s something you should know,” he began. Then he changed his mind. This wasn’t the time. He needed to taste her again.

“What?” She sounded as though she were coming out of a coma.

“Come here first.”

She walked over to him as though she were sleepwalking, her steps sluggish and her look disoriented.

“Kiss me first,” Brand whispered, “then I’ll tell you.”

As if she were in a stupor, she planted her hands on his chest, then stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips lightly over his. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Brand wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and buried his face in her neck, savoring her softness.

For the last several days he’d been wondering what it was about Erin that preyed so heavily on his mind. After kissing her, he understood. He felt strong when he was with her. Strong emotionally. Strong physically. When they were together, he became another Samson. She gave him a feeling of being needed.

She needed him, too. She’d never admit it, of course, never deliberately tell him as much, but it was true.

“You said we needed to talk,” she reminded him. With what seemed like a good deal of effort, she moved away from him.

“Yes,” Brand answered softly, and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “What are you doing every day for the next four days?”

“Why?” A worried look dominated her face. Then her eyes, which had been so gentle and submissive only seconds before, flashed to life with a fire that all but scorched Brand. “You don’t need to tell me. You’re only going to be in Seattle four more days.”

Chapter Four

“Why are you so angry?” Brand demanded, not understanding Erin. He was being as honest as he knew how to be with her, and she was looking at him as though he’d just announced he was an ax murderer.

“You know…You know…” She walked over to the cupboard and slammed two ceramic mugs down with enough force to crack the kitchen counter. “From the beginning you’ve known how I feel about navy men.”

“I didn’t mislead you,” he reminded her in as reasonable a tone as he could muster. “You knew from the first I was on a short assignment.”

Grudgingly she answered him with an abrupt nod.

If Brand was upset about anything, it was the fact that he’d waited so long to do as his friend Casey MacNamera had asked and checked up on the old man’s daughter. If Brand had contacted her the first week he’d arrived in Seattle, a lot of things might have worked out differently.

“Here’s your coffee.” The hot liquid sloshed over the edges of the mug when Erin set it on the glass table top.

He pulled out a beige cushioned chair and sat. His hands cupped the mug while he waited, giving Erin the time she needed to sort through her feelings.

It took her far longer than he expected. She paced the kitchen ten or fifteen times, pausing twice, her eyes revealing her confusion and her doubt. Both times she glared at him as though he’d committed unspeakable crimes. After a while, her brisk steps slowed, and she started talking to herself, mumbling something unintelligible.

“Am I forgiven?” Brand asked when she sat in the chair across the table from him.

“Sure,” she answered, giving him a weak smile. “What’s there to forgive?”

“I’m pleased you feel that way.” Because of the abrupt switch in her behavior, Brand didn’t feel as confident.

“Meeting you has…been an interesting experience” was all she’d say.

Brand felt the same way himself. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I’m busy.”

Brand frowned, and a sinking sensation attacked the pit of his stomach. “Doing what?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern.”

Oh, boy, here it comes, he mused. “But it is. If you’re attending church services, then I’ll go with you. If you’ve promised a friend you’d help them move, then I’ll cart boxes myself.” If Erin thought the Irish could be stubborn, she had yet to butt heads with the German in him.

“Brand, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I can’t change who I am for you. I told you from the first I don’t want to become involved with anyone in the military, and I meant it. I don’t know why you can’t accept that. And I don’t even want to know. You’re leaving, and when it comes right down to it, I’m glad. It’s for the best.”

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