Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) (24 page)

“Jim? What if the team sees us?”

He turned, shrugging. “They would expect it. Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you. We’ll just pretend this is the first time we’ve sat down together.”

Cathy leaned against the door. “
That
is going to be very hard to do.”

There was tenderness in his voice. “I know. Get a shower and look beautiful for all those poor bastards down there.”

JIM WAS ORDERING coffee for both of them when Cathy appeared at the intricately carved teakwood entrance to the restaurant. He felt the same strong desire rush through his body once again as she demurely made her way over to him. He stood and seated her. There was a blush to her cheeks and he found it very hard not to drink in her delicate beauty. She was right—it was going to be very hard to pretend indifference. Boland smiled to himself. The fitted, sleeveless summer dress accentuated her dark tan and emphasized the slender quality of her body. Yet, it was a strong body, one filled with loving and giving passion.

“You look like a rose in a dandelion patch. White becomes you.”

Cathy wrapped her slim fingers about the pale lavender bone china coffee cup, meeting his smoldering gaze.

“Thank you,” she managed, unused to such sincere compliments.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for us. Do you mind?”

“As long as it’s something American, I don’t care. I’m starved for good, hot food.”

“It is,” Jim assured her, wrapping his hands around his cup. He gave her an amused look. “I’m having one hell of a time keeping my hands to myself and also keeping the conversation light and social.”

Her body responded to that low growl of his. It sent flutters of heat through her lower body. “What do you want to talk about that’s so personal, then?” Cathy asked, sipping the fragrant coffee. It struck her suddenly that she was here, in a beautifully appointed restaurant, instead of in her hootch drinking coffee from her tin mug.

With a shrug, Jim held her warm green gaze. “Things like—you look too vulnerable to be doing the job you’re doing for the WLF. I see happiness in your eyes for the first time. I want to know about Cathy Fremont, the woman.”

“I’ve never talked much about myself with anyone,” she responded guardedly.

“It’s my nature to probe and pry. I like to understand what makes people run the way they do.”

“Maybe you missed your calling, Jim. Instead of a military officer, you should have been a shrink.”

He shared a quiet smile with her and, again, felt her inner radiance surround him. “I’m a people manager. That’s what I do best. I know how to extract their best, not their worst. Or, at least I hope I do.”

“You do,” Cathy said softly. “You know how to manage me and not many people can. My friends say I’m a maverick. The rest call me a misfit.”

He reached over, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze and then released them. “Like I said before, Cathy, you’re complex, not difficult.”

“Lane calls me screwed up.”

“What do you think?”

“She’s the one who’s screwed up.” Cathy scowled and picked up an ornate fork, absently toying with it. “I believe a woman can do what she chooses. I don’t believe there’s a certain ‘type’ of woman cut out for combat any more than there’s a certain type of man.” Her voice grew hollow. “How can anyone condone killing except in defense of your own life? War isn’t about that. War is about politics. Religious hatreds. Disagreements. I don’t feel killing is right under those circumstances.”

Jim nodded and wanted to understand her beliefs on a deeper level.

“Why did you join the Marines? I don’t see you as a career officer.”

Her insights were sharp and well defined. “I wanted a chance to practice my degree in civil engineering and get some experience before I formed my own construction business after I got out in six years. I’m not re-upping. I want to go back to civilian life. I’ve been around machinery and farming all my life. I like the idea of shaping and molding the earth, building things. I decided to hone my abilities by going into the Marine engineering corps.”

“You’re a Recon, though. They don’t build anything.”

He managed a wry grimace. “Tell me about it. I got in and all the slots for the engineering were filled. So, I went into Recons with a promise from Personnel that as soon as a slot opened up, they’d feed me back in.”

“But that didn’t happen?”

“Yeah, it did eventually. I’d been in Recons quite a while and was getting ready to marry Susan when the assignment was offered to transfer back into engineering. And then, Susan was killed. I almost went crazy with rage and grief over her death. Lieutenant Colonel Mackey was my C.O. and he held me together so that I could function over here. At that time, we were working in small units with the Thais to help train them.”

Cathy saw the remnants of pain in his intelligent eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She saw the parallels in their lives. “You hid in your work just as I ‘hid’ by joining the Marine Corps after Craig died.”

“Nobody said losing someone you loved deeply is easy,” he agreed grimly.

“And, yet, we’ve survived those losses.”

With a nod, Jim said, “I think we’re pretty good at surviving. It’s a real art form and not one I’d recommend to anyone.”

“I keep hitting my bottom line and I’m tired of it, Jim.” Cathy closed her eyes. “I’ve run out of whatever I had. It’s been coming ever since I joined the WLF.”

Breakfast arrived and Jim waited until the Thai waiter left. Lane’s methods were eating away at her reserves. “You have whatever it takes to survive, Cathy,” he urged her. “There have been times when I thought I was going to die and, somehow, didn’t.”

Pushing the eggs around on the plate, Cathy shrugged. “As much as I hate to admit reality, I’ve got two more months to live through and then I’m home free. That’s all I’m doing—counting days. I have a short-timer’s attitude.”

He have her a half smile. “And when you get back Stateside, what then?”

“My three years with the Marine Corps is up. My contract with the WLF dissolves at that point because I’ve fulfilled it.” She hungrily dug into the spicy, cubed potatoes and picked up a slice of bacon. “I’ll go back to Ohio State University and complete my last year of school and get my R.N. cap.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Will you start that construction company?”

Jim picked at his food. “Yes, I will. I was born in Nebraska, but I really like Colorado. I’m thinking about starting a construction firm in Gunnison. I like the Rocky Mountains.”

Cathy stared down at her food. As good as it tasted, she’d lost her appetite. “Why are we fooling ourselves? We’re in a combat zone. One bullet could finish us off. A mortar.” She put down the fork, her voice growing strained. “This is all an elaborate dream, Jim. You. This beautiful seaside resort.”

Reaching for her one hand, he covered it with his own. “Easy, babe. You’re experiencing culture shock. Everyone does when they walk out of that nightmare they’re in and set foot in the civilian world for a little while.” He saw the anguish momentarily in her darkening eyes and reluctantly released her cool hand. “Today is real, Cathy. You. Me. This resort. And we’ve got three days. After breakfast, what do you feel like doing?”

Shakily, Cathy reached for the linen napkin spread across her lap and blotted her lips. “Just lie on the beach, listen to the water and rest.”

“Okay, you’ve got it. Mind if I come along and share this dream with you?”

THE SUN WAS slowly climbing toward its zenith and Cathy languished in the one-piece green bathing suit, soaking up the late-morning rays. She lay on her stomach, face pressed against the yellow beach towel. The hotel patrons, mostly servicemen on R & R, were barely beginning to stir from last night’s hangovers or card games or arriving back from Bangkok’s red-light district. With the exception of themselves and a few vendors, the beach was empty. She barely opened her eyes, staring over at Jim. He lay inches away from her, his darkly tanned back gleaming with the suntan oil that she had applied earlier. His touch was no less evocative as he slowly oiled her back, arms and legs. He made even the smallest gesture a pleasure. His eyes were closed, the black lashes short and spiky against his cheeks. Cathy liked his mouth—it was mobile, moving quickly into a grimace, a smile or a growl of desire.

“Jim?”

“Hmm?”

Cathy smiled lazily. He was like a sleek jungle cat. Even when relaxed, she was aware that he was powerful and potentially dangerous. Dangerous? Yes, to her emotionally. If anything, Jim had shored up her broken pieces with his attention. Ordinarily, she didn’t dally in one-nightstands; they weren’t for her. She craved the stability of a long-term relationship. And love? There was that word again. She had loved Craig. The feelings Jim was bringing to life from within her vaulted heart were even more intense than the ones she’d experienced with Craig. Cathy was afraid to put any more serious emphasis upon how she felt about Jim. Time was too short, reality too stark.

“Tell me about that swing under the apple tree at your parents’ farm.”

His eyes barely opened and he studied her.

She shrugged. “I remember your mentioning it to me after I had the sunstroke.”

“Oh…” And then he smiled, propping himself up on one elbow. “When I was in junior high woodworking class, I made the swing. My dad helped me hang it on the bough of an old, gnarled apple tree out back. Every spring, I’d go out to sand and varnish it. Then I’d paint it a bright red. I used to spend many hours swinging under that old apple tree daydreaming about what I wanted to be and watching life go by.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Cathy murmured.

“You can see it, you know.”

The smile faded from her lips and she drowned in the warm gray of his gaze, her heart wrenching in her breast.

“Make me a promise?” Jim asked, trailing his hand along the surface of her suited body and coming to rest on her shoulder.

“I get wary whenever someone wants me to promise something, Jim.”

“Why?” He saw the pain was back in her eyes.

“Over the years as I grew up, I was always promised a family by the state. I began to hate hearing that word. It’s better not to promise, because there’s nothing to be broken or someone disappointed if you can’t keep it.”

He leaned over, molding his mouth to her lips, softening them beneath his onslaught. She gave a little moan of pleasure and leaned against him, her soft curves fitting against the harder planes of his. Satisfied that he had erased her hurt momentarily, Jim drew inches away. “Somewhere along the line, Cathy, you’re going to have to learn to trust all over again. Trust in people. Not everyone breaks their promise.” He traced the clean arch of her eyebrow with his thumb. “Promise me you’ll come to my parents’ farm and sit with me under that old apple tree. I can’t guarantee the swing will be freshly painted or sanded, but it will be there. There are some things in life that are a constant.”

“Not many,” she muttered, unable to hold his lambent gaze, her lips tingling hotly from his cajoling kiss.

With a chuckle, Jim kissed her again. “Stubborn wench,” he breathed against her lips, and then melded his mouth hotly to hers. Finally, he released Cathy and she rested her head on his arm, her lips parted and soft in the aftermath of his assault. He ran several strands of her clean hair through his fingers.

“There are many constants in life,” Jim told her quietly. “The seasons are constant to the farmer. There’s spring for planting and fall for harvesting. Rain makes the crops grow. The sun ripens them. Thunderstorms remind us of the fury and majesty of nature. A sunset brings each day to a gentle end with a rainbow palette of colors. A sunrise brings a promise of new day.”

His tone grew reverent as he cupped her cheek, looking deeply into her emerald eyes. “There is a mother’s love for her baby. A husband’s love for his wife. The love of the land. All those are constants, Cathy. Share a constant in my life. My old swing I painstakingly fashioned by hand. I always return to the farm and that swing when I get Stateside. It reminds me that no matter how torn up or distraught or out of kilter I am, I can sit there and everything will restabilize. That swing brings me home. It hangs there day after day in all that changing weather and endures. Like I do. Like you will.”

She pressed her hand against his, closing her eyes and immersing herself in his belief, his hope. “How can I promise you anything, Jim? I can only live life a day at a time. To me, there’s no future, just surviving Lane and the WLF.”

He sought and found her trembling lips. How easily Cathy was moved and how easily he was touched because of her. “Don’t ever let anyone destroy hope within you, babe. The future is another word for hope.”

“Maybe I’ve lost the ability to hope, Jim.”

“No, you haven’t. You just think you have. For now, let me give you my hope and share my dreams. Have I told you about the pond out back of the fruit trees?”

A sliver of a smile tugged at the soft corners of her mouth and she opened her eyes. “No, but tell me about it.”

THE FAN WHIRLED lazily above their heads, moving the sluggish air around the darkened room. They lay entangled with each other, sweat gleaming off their naked forms, the moonlight pale silver on the veranda outside their room.

Jim leaned over, pressing a kiss to her damp brow, inhaling Cathy’s female fragrance. “Every time’s better,” he told her thickly. He ran his fingers down her slender arm, which was wrapped around his waist.

“We’re good together,” Cathy agreed softly, nuzzling beneath his jaw, savoring his tenderness in the aftermath. Her entire body sang and she immersed herself in the implosions of pleasure still remaining after she lost count of how many orgasms she’d experienced. “No man ever made me feel like you do,” she admitted. “I know it sounds like a line, but it isn’t.”

A vague smile tugged at his mouth, his face outlined in shadows. “You aren’t capable of lines.”

“Neither are you.”

“I’m not so lily-white,” Jim warned her, moving his hand across her silky hair. “I’ve been known to sink into that game.” And guilt needled his conscience.

“You haven’t with me.”