Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (22 page)

She closed her eyes, her brow wrinkling. “That was three long years ago. I’m over his death for the most part. In my grief, I joined the Marine Corps because my best friend, Lisa Gardner, wanted to. Stupid. Stupid on both counts. Now I’m really sorry. It’s gone from bad to worse. I’m a square peg in a round hole.”

Jim leaned forward, smoothing several strands of ginger-colored hair from her glistening cheek. She was perspiring openly and that was a good sign.

“We both lost someone we loved, then.”

“Yeah, we have. Like you said once before, life goes on,” Cathy said huskily. “Last night? Did I tell you to get lost?”

“Yes.”

“I—I didn’t mean it the way it came out, Jim. I’m just stove-up emotionally. I should never have let Lisa talk me into the joining the WLF.”

“What you did was honorable and good. I hope Lisa values what you did for her.”

“She does. So far, we’re still alive. That’s all that counts.”

He straightened up and relaxed back into the chair. “I want to discuss one more thing and then I’ll let you sleep off the rest of this hangover.”

Cathy felt her heart pound once to underscore the look she saw in his eyes. “What?”

“Us. You and I.”

“You’re an officer, I’m enlisted. The two don’t mix.”

“I don’t care, Cathy.”

She stared at him, and her eyes widened considerably.

Jim gave her an intense look. “I want to spend the rest of my time on R & R with you. I don’t give a damn about military rules of etiquette.”

“No, Jim.” She dragged in a ragged breath and forced herself to go on. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I can’t take any more. I know you’re kind and good. Right now, I can’t handle that.” She glanced away then met his eyes. “I don’t want any reminders, Jim.”

CATHY SCREAMED, lunging out of bed. She sprawled out on the floor in a tangle of sheets. Huge gulps heaved from her, and sweat soaked through the robe she still wore. Groping in the darkness, she staggered about and collapsed on the bed. She was alive! It was all right. It was just a nightmare about Sirikit and her baby.

The
carrump
of rockets and the whump of mortar had been real as she saw the artillery tear into Ban Pua. She had stood helplessly on the hillside, watching as fire consumed the very house where they had helped to deliver Sirikit’s beautiful baby boy. Desperately, Cathy tried to reorient herself to the present and push the incident away. The clock on her bed stand read past midnight. Her legs were trembling. Heart pounding. She was afraid.

She fumbled for a pair of jeans and a blouse, not bothering with a bra or panties. Cathy left her room, seeking the peace of the beach. Tears blurred her vision as she tore down the lobby stairs. She pushed past a group of Marines, nearly running into one of them.

Cathy jogged away from the hotel, her head slowly beginning to clear. She started to run, long, purposeful strides measured to the now-even cadence of her breathing, her bare feet digging deeply into the white sand. The farther from the hotel she got, the faster she ran. The sand became more firm and darkened as she paralleled the tiny waves washing up on the slanted beach.

Broaching the crest of a small dune peppered with thin strands of grass, Cathy halted. A trickle of sweat wound between her breasts and down between her shoulder blades. Her breath came in huge, tearing gulps as she tore off her clothes. In seconds, she was stepping into the inviting ebony water. It was warm and invigorating, closing around her like a mother’s comforting arms. Cathy languished in the shallows, trying to ease the hurt and pain still there in her chest like an immovable fist. Why wouldn’t it go away? Oh, God, why wouldn’t it?

Eventually, tiredness overtook Cathy and she staggered out of the water. The night air was chilly and she tugged on the jeans. Her fingers trembled badly as she buttoned her blouse, the material clinging to her wet flesh. By the time she finished, a thin slice of moon had edged over the mirrorlike ocean, sending a silvery sheen across it.

Cathy stood on the hill, soaking up the peace, absorbing it desperately because none of the animal-like anguish had left her. All was quiet. God’s peace. A serenity and outward calm she did not possess. Alone again. As always. Only this time, the shearing quality cut through her as never before.

Lost in the tangled web of her feelings, Cathy was unaware of an approaching figure until he was within twenty feet of her. Startled, her combat instincts took over, and she whirled around in a crouch. It was Jim Boland.

Slowly, Cathy straightened up and tried to act nonchalant, as if nothing was wrong. She watched as he halted a few feet from her.

“Gomez saw you tearing out of the hotel, babe,” he offered quietly, his hands in the pockets of the light jacket.

Cathy bowed her head, feeling her throat tighten. “I—I had a nightmare, that’s all,” she whispered. “I—I’ll be okay. Just leave me alone….”

Jim walked within inches of her. “Sorry, I can’t do that any longer. Whatever is eating at you, we’re going to work through. Now.”

CATHY QUIVERED uncontrollably. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she tough it out?

Cathy felt a gentle tug on her arm. She found herself being turned around. Fighting back the tidal wave of tears and anguish, she tried to push away from Jim, her hands flat against his chest.

“Don’t,” she cried, “don’t do this to me.”

Jim saw the naked pain in every plane of her face, mirrored within her pleading, luminous eyes. “We need to talk, Cathy,” he began huskily, his fingers wrapping firmly around her upper arms so she couldn’t pull free. “You and I. We helped a baby be born—”

A howl surged up through her, coming out of her throat as a low, animal moan. “Stop…stop, I don’t want to hear—” And she tried to struggle out of his grasp.

Jim took an uneven breath, holding her while she tried to squirm free.

“Listen to me! Dammit, Cathy, stop running! Stop trying to hide from the pain. Let it go. Let—it—go! It’s our pain. We shared something good and clean. I’m sorry the baby’s dead, but it’s a fact, Cathy. You’ve got to face it. Face it with me.”

Rage intermingled with fear as her control began disintegrating beneath his hoarsely breathed words as he forced her against him to contain her struggles. Blindly, Cathy fought him, her strength born out of fear, out of loss of total control. Scuffling, the sand sucking and slippery, Cathy brought up her knee to catch him between the legs.

Boland countered swiftly, knocking both legs out from beneath her. He heard her cry out as they crashed to the sand. Again, she struck out at him, her balled fist barely grazing his clenched jaw. He caught her wrist and twisted it up and over her thrashing head.

“Cathy! Settle down—”

A choked cry exploded from her. “No!”

She fought wildly for nearly a minute. Boland straddled her bucking body, sat down on her heaving midsection and pinned both hands above her head. “Dammit,” he rasped thickly, “you aren’t going to run! Get that through your head, Cathy.”

She clamped her eyes shut, ceasing to struggle, her breasts rising and falling sharply against her blouse.

Jim’s fingers tightened considerably on her wrists as he leaned close, his breath punctuating his words. “The baby, Cathy. The baby. The one you delivered. The one you held…” His voice cracked and his eyes glittered dangerously with tears.

The baby
. And then, Cathy let go, scalding tears streaming down her face and sobs wrenching from deep inside her.

Finally, Jim released her. He got off her and slipped his arm beneath her shoulders and dragged her into his arms. Raw, unwilling sobs shattered the night air and he rocked Cathy back and forth, holding her tightly, crooning words of comfort to her. He laid his head against her tangled, damp hair, sharing her pain, sharing her grief. His own tears molded and fused with hers as he sought and found her contorted lips. He tasted the bitter salt of her tears and the life-giving sweetness of her mouth. All he could do was frame her face with his fingers, their heads bowed in mutual anguish, and cry. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically against his jacket, her anguish reverberating through him like a gutting knife. He could do nothing but hold her, whisper mute words and kiss her tear-bathed face in an effort to cleanse her of all that horror.

After a while, her sobs lessened and he simply held her. Jim ran his fingers through her tangled, gritty hair. He felt Cathy slowly begin to relax against him. Her heart was pounding like a snared rabbit’s against his chest wall.

“Better?” he asked hoarsely.

Cathy bobbed her head once, unable to speak. She shut her eyes, aware of the feeling of safety within Jim’s arms. The tenor of care in his voice was a healing unguent to her raw emotions. The sounds of the ocean became a rhythmic lullaby, as did the strong, steady beat of his heart as she rested her head against his chest. Only the ebb and flow of the water and their own hearts beating mattered.

Jim nuzzled her cheek, needing her in ways he’d never needed a woman before. The depth of Cathy’s emotions, her fragility linked with an undeniable strength, simply amazed him. He rested his mouth against her cheek.

“You’re like a thunderstorm,” he whispered unsteadily to her, his voice a rasp. “Did I ever tell you that? You’re like those huge thunderheads with updrafts and downdrafts inside them. The emotions you have, the way you feel them, is intense, cleansing.”

Cathy cleared her throat, content to remain within his embrace, the moist warmth of his breath fanning across her cheek and temple. “I’m an emotional barometer.”

“Only you try to hide it.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t hide from me, babe. I like you just the way you are.”

“Then you’re a glutton for punishment.” She felt him shake in silent laughter.

Jim kissed her hair, inhaling the tangy, salty scent of it. “You’re not difficult, just complex. There’s a difference.” He pulled inches away from her. In the thin wash of moonlight, her eyes were huge, jade gems dark with tears, her vulnerability evident down to the parting of her full lips. “You’re like a diamond,” he explained softly, “multifaceted, with many brilliant faces that change with your emotional tide. That’s why you came out here tonight, to be near the ocean that reflects the changing landscape of your moods.”

She took a torn breath, holding his gaze. The kindness was there in his face again, the military officer’s facade washed away. “Water is healing to me.”

“But it couldn’t heal you tonight, Cathy.”

“No.” She dropped her head and tears plopped upon her jeans. “I was afraid, Jim.”

“Of what? Me?”

“Of what you represent.”

He ran his hand across her head. “What do I represent to you, Cathy?”

“For the last six months, I’ve been shoving more and more of my emotions away so that I could function. So I could survive,” she began, her voice barely audible. “I always knew I was sensitive and I learned a long time ago not to show it. Nobody wanted a kid who cried at the drop of a hat. I’ve had to learn how to shelve my emotions. When I joined the WLF, I had no idea what it would do to me.”

She lifted her chin, tying to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. “I’m not a killer, and yet I’ve killed. I can hardly sleep some nights because of it. I don’t believe in Lane’s philosophy of women being better combat soldiers. I tried to rationalize my being there by transferring my care to my squad. And then she took that away from me. Lane has tried to strip me of everything I’ve ever believed in. It’s as if every one of my values and principles is being put on the line and challenged to see if I’ll stick to them or throw them away. And then, I met you….”

Cathy sniffed and tried to smile, but the attempt came out broken and haunted looking. “You were kind to me. You treated me like a human being. I started feeling as if I could survive all this, Jim. You gave me reason to hang on.” Reaching out, she placed her fingers against his sandpapery jaw. “I was so grateful when you allowed me to help deliver the baby. You gave me back my life, my reason to hope.” Her fingers slipped from his jaw and she clenched them in her lap. “And when I found out the baby and Sirikit were dead, I felt gutted. Destroyed.”

Jim sat there for several minutes, digesting her words. Eventually, he picked up Cathy’s tightly knotted hands and slowly worked them apart and held them gently within his own. “That’s why you didn’t want me near. You thought you had nothing left in you if you admitted the baby—our baby—was gone.”

Tucking her trembling lower lip between her teeth, Cathy bowed her head and nodded. “I’ve been alone all my life, Jim. But right now, I feel lost and I hurt so badly inside. I hurt in ways I never knew a human could….”

She felt her womb contract, felt needs she hadn’t felt with any man. His gray eyes were tender and her heart open, making her feel vulnerable and needy. She wanted him, man to woman. No longer did Cathy care about fraternization rules.

“War does that,” Jim agreed quietly. And then he placed his finger beneath her chin and held her wavering gaze. “But we have each other, Cathy. What we’ve shared so far, is ours, on so many different levels. Your pain is my pain. The joy I saw in your eyes, when you lifted that baby up for Sirikit to see for the first time, was my joy. I never felt more alive….”

He slid his hand across the smooth slope of her damp cheek. “You are life to me, do you realize that? From that dancing sparkle in your beautiful green eyes to the delicate the curve of your lips. You make me feel again. I was dead, too, in a different way, until I met you.”

He leaned forward, his mouth barely grazing her glistening lips. She was soft, accessible and sweet beneath his questing mouth. Easing away, he rasped, “We have each other. We can be each other’s strength and sanctuary.”

A raw quiver of heat spiraled through Cathy as his mouth slanted gently against her lips. The need in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Cathy returned his tentative, exploratory kiss. The infusion of Jim’s strength gave her strength. He was giving to her now, filling her emotionally with swift, rising passion. He was replacing her loss with his care and Cathy moaned as he guided her down onto the sand. She allowed her feelings to lead her and she gave them free rein. With Jim, Cathy realized she was safe and cared for and loved. For the next three days, she wanted nothing more than to forget about Lane and the war.

Jim eased his mouth from hers, drowning in her eyes filled with desire for him. “Are you protected?” Because he didn’t have a condom on him.
Bad timing
.

“I’m on the pill,” she said, her mouth tingling from his kiss.

He released her and shrugged out of his jacket. Where they sat was mostly in salt grass and sand. “We’ll lie on this,” he said, spreading it out next to her.

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Cathy stood up. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have stripped out of her clothes in front of a man. But he wasn’t just any man. She unbuttoned her blouse with trembling fingers and felt him move close, his hands covering hers.

“Let me,” Jim rasped, kissing her mouth as he eased her hands aside.

Cathy stood very still, sliding her lips across his as she felt his fingers open up her blouse. She wore no bra, the material making her nipples harden as it rasped across them. Allowing her arms to drop to her sides, she broke the kiss as the material slid off her shoulders and fell to the ground. Her heart was hammering as she saw his intense gaze settle on her breasts. His callused hands cupped her shoulders and she closed her eyes, feeling her breasts grow tight. She’d seen the burning look in his eyes, felt her nipples hardening almost painfully, wanting him to touch them, suckle her.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her closed eyes, trailing his mouth down across her cheek and sliding against her parted lips.

Cathy quivered as his hands moved from her shoulders to her waist. Instantly, her entire lower body clenched in anticipation. He worked the button free and unzipped her trousers, sliding his hands beneath them to push them off her hips. His hands stilled momentarily as he realized she had no panties beneath her slacks. Cathy didn’t care and she helped him push her slacks away from her feet. He drew his hands up from her calves, her skin leaping and tightening in the wake of his exploring fingers as he moved them upward.

Her breath hitched as his hands encircled her hips. She opened her eyes, staring up into his, sensing his hunger was as deep as hers.

“Your turn,” she whispered, touching the black T-shirt he wore. Her heart beat with anticipation as Jim gave her a very male smile, stepped back and pulled it off, dropping it with her clothes. Cathy stared at his broad chest, the dark hair across its expanse. He was built powerfully, sculpted muscle moving cleanly as he leaned down and removed his sneakers. Straightening, holding her gaze, Jim opened the jeans and pushed them down. Cathy’s throat tightened as she saw him remove his boxer shorts. Her entire lower body went hot and she felt dampness collecting between her thighs.

It felt so right, so natural to her to sit down on the jacket with him. Her pulse leaped as he eased her down on her back and he lay next to her, propped up on one elbow, his gaze moving with appreciation across her long, lean form. Cathy could feel the heat of his gaze on her flesh even though he’d not touched her. A scalding sensation settled in her womb. He gave her a heated, sensual look as he claimed her mouth.

His tongue moved slowly across her lower lip, teasing her, inviting her to participate, and she did, curving her mouth hotly against his, arching her body. The moment their hips met, ragged heat infused her as she felt his erection pressing deeply against her belly. A softened moan rose in her throat as Jim slid his hand down her back, capturing her hips, bringing her hard against him.

His stubble rasped against her cheek, his breath moist and uneven against her as he deepened their kiss. A quiver fled through her as Jim slid his hand across her thigh, his fingers following the inward curve of her thigh. She opened to him. Cathy felt scalding hunger rise within her to the starvation level as his fingers grazed her inner thigh. She was so wet, so ready for him, and she trembled in desperation, wanting his touch, wanting him inside her.

His mouth left hers and as he moved his fingers to her opening, Cathy arched against him, a moan of need driven out of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. And then, her world dissolved as his breath grazed her breast, tightening the nipple. She felt herself surrendering to his sweet assault upon her. And as his lips tugged on the first nipple, a keening cry broke from her. The slivers of electricity shot from her nipple straight into her clenching lower body. Her breath became uneven and she twisted within his arms, pressing herself against his hand, silently wanting more. Much more.

He moved his finger just inside her, teasing her, finding that knot of nerves that shook her apart, the pleasure ripping up through her, and she arched demandingly against him, against his erection. The white-hot heat tore through her as he explored her and she sobbed his name, her fingers digging deeply into his back.