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.”
“Never with you, babe.”
Jim stared up at the fan. When had he come to the decision not to involve Cathy in Mackey’s plan? Jim wasn’t sure. In the past five days, he knew more than ever, he’d made been the right decision. Cathy didn’t deserve his betrayal. She deserved nothing but the honesty with which she lived her life. And her stubborn honesty had her in dangerous juxtaposition with Lane.
Absently, Jim stroked away the damp perspiration on her lean back and hip. He didn’t care if Mackey hit the roof and threatened him. All he wanted to do was protect Cathy.
Every once in a while, Cathy would divulge another facet of herself. And each halting story she shared with him was valuable and touching. Jim found himself understanding what being abandoned really meant. He had his parents to confide in when he was hurting or needed support. Alone. God, how alone Cathy really was. Unconsciously, Jim held her, bringing her against him. He sought and found her lips, sweet with invitation all over again.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he growled thickly. He eased her down on the bed, lying above her, aware of laughter dancing in her eyes.
“I think we’ve more than made up for our months of celibacy, don’t you?” And she laughed that husky, earthy laugh. Their nights weren’t spent sleeping. She’d never wanted to love someone more than Jim. Every day she was filled with an urgency to make the very most of every hour with him.
Jim kissed her nose, his one hand coming to rest at her waist. “I’ll tell you one thing, Cathy,” he said, becoming serious, “you may be counting the days until you can get out from under Lane, but I’ll be counting them just as much. I’m due to rotate back to the States in four months. And no matter where you are at that time, I’m walking back into your life and that’s a promise. Nothing’s going to stop me.”
A lump formed in her throat as she held his smoldering gaze. Jim meant every word. She felt it reverberate through every cell of her being. Reaching up, she framed his square face with her hands. “Then count for both of us, Jim, because I can’t. Won’t. I have to survive Lane and the enemy. There’s no place of safety for me here in Thailand.” Her voice cracked. “Count for both of us, all right?”
Jim shut his eyes and blindly reached out, crushing her giving, loving form against him. Burying his head in her spice-scented hair, he whispered, “I’ll count for both of us, babe. Both of us…”
Cathy clung to him and immersed herself in the smell, taste and touch of Jim, wanting to lose herself forever in his arms, her only place of safety. Tomorrow morning would come too soon and, within hours, she would be back at Alpha. At least that was a reprieve; she wouldn’t have to go back to Delta. There was some kindness in the cosmos after all, she deci
ded. And right now, she needed every shred of it. Even as she met and matched Jim’s rising passion once again, Louise Lane’s strict, authoritarian face rose before her to haunt her.
LOUISE DRUMMED her fingers impatiently, waiting for Private Janet Hayes to report. God, that poor excuse for a soldier was impossibly slow to respond! Compressing her lips, Louise held on to her anger.
Anxiety was plainly visible on Hayes’s moonlike face as she came to attention in front of Louise. The major veiled her displeasure over Hayes’s rumpled uniform.
“At ease, Private. Sit down.”
Hayes inched toward the chair that sat in front of the desk. What did Lane want? What had she done wrong? Nervously, Janet clasped her hands in front of her, sitting down, her back ramrod straight.
Lane opened a folder sitting in front of her. “How do you and Corporal Fremont get along?”
Janet’s eyes took on saucer proportion. “Why—uh, okay, ma’am.” Janet starkly remembered the time Cathy had saved her from injury or even death during the patrol that Thatcher had been killed. Cathy hadn’t put her on report afterward for becoming hysterical during the firefight.
“Are you a confidante to her?”
She frowned, wrinkling her brow, her hazel eyes growing confused.
“Ma’am?”
“Confidante. A friend?”
“Oh. She sort of took care of me, ma’am.”
The major’s eyes narrowed with contained irritation. “Hayes, will you listen to what I’m asking you? Does Fremont consider you a friend? Someone she can be at ease with and talk to?”
Hayes shrugged her shoulders timidly. “She’s always friendly with everyone, ma’am.” And then she gave a weak smile. “I always talked to Cathy…er, Corporal Fremont. And she always has time to listen. I’d consider her a good friend, ma’am.”
Louise tempered her anger. “I have a mission for you, Hayes. And it’s vital you carry it out to the best of your ability.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I want you to go over to Alpha Company and visit Corporal Fremont and find out what’s going on over there. She’s been back from R & R for two days now. Just talk to her. Find out how she is and what’s she’s thinking. I want to know what the Marines think of her. Can you do that for me, Hayes?”
Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) Page 25