Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

by Debbie Macomber

  Feeling uncomfortable, Erin looked away.

  “We’re both here day in and day out, working with women who are making new lives for themselves,” Aimee continued. “But finding them a decent job is only the beginning. They’ve been traumatized, abandoned and left to deal with life on their own. If you want the truth, I’m beginning to believe our thinking’s becoming jaded. Not everyone ends up divorced. Not everyone will have to go through what these women have. It’s just that we deal with it each and every day until our own perception of married life has been warped.”

  “But you and Steve—”

  “I know,” Aimee argued. “Trust me, I know. I pray every day I’m doing the right thing by divorcing Steve.”

  Erin was praying the same thing herself for the both of them. “But if you’re having second thoughts, shouldn’t you be doing something?”

  “Like what?” Aimee suggested, her voice flippant. “Steve’s already involved with another woman.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Deep down I do. You saw him the day we went to court. He wore that stupid green tie just to irritate me, and the looks he gave me…I can’t begin to describe to you the way he glanced at me, as if…as if he couldn’t believe he’d ever been married to me in the first place. He couldn’t wait for the divorce to be final.”

  “But I thought this was a friendly divorce.”

  Aimee’s gaze fell to her hands. “There’s no such thing as a friendly divorce. It’s too damn painful for everyone involved.”

  “Oh, Aimee, I feel so bad for you and Steve.”

  “Why should you?” she asked, the sarcastic edge back in her voice. “We’re both getting exactly what we want.”

  Erin knew nothing more that she could say. She didn’t have any excuse to linger around the office. The lecture wasn’t until seven, and it was optional as far as her class was concerned. She didn’t have to be there herself, but she thought it would help kill time, which was something that was weighing heavily on her these days.

  Erin’s thoughts were heavy as she walked outside the double glass doors of the fifteen-story office complex. The wind had picked up and was biting-cold. She hunched her shoulders and tucked her hands inside her coat pockets as she headed for the parking lot on Yesler.

  With her head down, it was little wonder she didn’t notice the tall, dark figure standing next to her car. It wasn’t until she was directly in front of him that she realized someone was blocking her path.

  When she looked up, her heart, in a frenzy, flew into her throat.

  Brand stood there, his eyes as cold and biting as the north wind.

  “Brand,” she whispered, hardly able to speak, “what are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t want me to write you or contact you by phone. But you didn’t say anything about not seeing you in person. If you want to break everything off, fine, I can accept that. Only you’re going to have to do it to my face.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You couldn’t let it go, could you?” Erin cried, battling with an anger that threatened to consume her. Tears blurred Brand’s image before her, and for a second she couldn’t make out his features. When she did, her heart ached at the sight of him.

  “No, I couldn’t leave it,” Brand returned harshly. “You want to end it, then fine, have it your way. But I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

  “Oh, Brand,” she whispered, her anger vanishing as quickly as it had come, “do you honestly believe it was easy?”

  “Say it, Erin. Tell me you want me out of your life.”

  He towered over her like a thundercloud, dark and menacing. Erin’s feet felt as if they were planted ankle-deep in concrete. She needed to put a few inches of distance between them, grant them both necessary breathing room. As it was, she was having a difficult time getting oxygen into her lungs.

  “Could we go someplace else and discuss this?” She barely managed the tightly worded request. The urge to break down was nearly overwhelming. It hurt as much to talk as to breathe.

  Of his own accord, Brand stepped away from her. “Where?”

  “There’s an…Italian restaurant not far from here.” The suggestion came off the top of her head, and the minute she said it, Erin realized attempting to talk would be impossible there.

  “I’m not discussing this with a roomful of people listening in on the conversation.”

  “All right, you choose.” A restaurant hadn’t been a brilliant idea, but Erin couldn’t think of anyplace else they could go.

  She wished with everything in her heart that Brand had accepted her letter and left it at that. Having him confront her unexpectedly like this made everything so much more difficult.

  “If we’re going to talk, it has to be someplace private,” he insisted.

  “Ah…” Erin hesitated.

  “My hotel room,” Brand suggested next, but he said it as though he expected her to argue with him.

  “Okay,” she agreed, not questioning the wisdom of his idea. Her primary thought was to get this over with as quickly as possible. It didn’t matter where they spoke, because in her heart she knew it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “You’ve got a date?” He bit out the question.

  “No…I’m suppose to be at a lecture.”

  “When?”

  “By seven.”

  “You’ll be there.” Brand took off walking, expecting her to follow behind. She did so reluctantly, wishing she could avoid this confrontation and knowing she couldn’t.

  His pace was brisk, and Erin practically had to trot in order to keep up with his long-legged strides. They’d gone four or five blocks when he entered the revolving glass door that led to the tastefully decorated hotel lobby.

  He paused outside the elevator for Erin to catch up to him. She was breathless by the time she traipsed across the plush red-and-white carpet.

  In all the time she’d known Brand, she’d never seen him quite like this. He was so unemotional, so unfeeling. Aloof, as if nothing she could say or do would disconcert him.

  His room was on the tenth floor. He unlocked and held open the door for her, and she walked inside. It was a standard room with a double bed, a night-stand and a dresser. In the corner, next to the window were a table and two olive-green upholstered chairs.

  “Go ahead and sit down,” he instructed brusquely. “I’ll have room service send up some coffee.”

  Erin nodded, walked across the room and settled in the crescent-shaped chair.

  Brand picked up the phone, pushed a button and requested the coffee. When he’d finished, he surprised her by sauntering to the other side of the compact room and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

  Erin’s gaze fell to her hands. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I’m so sorry, Brand,” she said in a small voice.

  “I didn’t come all this way for an apology.”

  He seemed to be waiting for something more, but Erin didn’t know what it was, and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she could have supplied it. The strained silence was so loud, it was all Erin could do not to press her hands over her ears.

  “Say something,” she pleaded. “Don’t just sit there looking so angry you could bite my head off.”

  “I’m not angry,” he corrected, clenching his fists, “I’m downright furious.” He bounded to his feet and stalked across the compact room. “A letter,” he said bitingly, and turned to glare down at her. “You didn’t have the decency to talk this out with me. Instead, you did it in a letter.”

  “I…was afraid…”

  She wasn’t allowed to finish. Brand advanced two steps toward her, then stopped. “Have I ever given you a reason to fear me? Ever? Am I so damn difficult to talk to? Is that it?”

  “I wasn’t afraid of you.”

  “A letter doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

  “I know,” she whispered woefully. “It seemed the best way at the time. I did
n’t mean to hurt you. Trust me, it hasn’t exactly been a piece of cake for me, either.”

  “Explain it to me, Erin, because I’m telling you right now, I can’t make heads or tails out of that letter. You love me, but you can’t marry me because you’re afraid we’ll end up divorcing someday and you don’t want to put our children through the trauma. Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”

  “It isn’t crazy,” she cried, vaulting to her feet. “Okay, so maybe I didn’t explain myself very well, but you weren’t there. You don’t know.”

  “I wasn’t where?”

  “In the courthouse that day with Aimee.” She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, trying to dispel the ready images that popped into her head. The same ones that had returned to haunt her so often. The young mother, who was consulting with her attorney and trying so hard to disguise the fact that she was crying. Aimee, her legs swinging like a pendulum gone berserk while she smoked like a chimney the whole time, pretending she was as cool as a milkshake. The heartache. The pain that was all so tangible. And the silence. That horrible, wounded silence.

  “What makes you so certain we’ll divorce?” Brand demanded.

  Lowering her hands, she sadly shook her head. “Because you’re navy.”

  “I’m getting damn tired of that argument.”

  “That’s because you’ve ignored my feelings about the military from the first. I told you the night we met how I felt about dating anyone in the military. I warned you…but you insisted. You refused to leave well enough alone—”

  “Come on, Erin,” he argued bitterly, “I didn’t exactly kidnap you and force you to date me. You were as eager to get to know me as I was you.”

  “But I—”

  “You don’t have a single quarrel. You wanted this. You can argue until you’re blue in the face, but it won’t make a damn bit of difference.”

  “I can’t marry you.”

  “Fine, then we’ll be lovers.” He jerked off his blue uniform jacket and started on the buttons of his military-issue shirt.

  Stunned, Erin didn’t move. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “I…I…what about the coffee?”

  “Right. I’ll cancel it.” He walked over to the phone and dialed room service. When he turned back to her, he seemed surprised that she was still wearing her coat. “Go on,” he urged. “Get undressed.”

  Erin’s mind raced for an excuse. “You’re not serious,” she said, crowding the words together.

  “The hell I’m not. I don’t suppose you’re protected,” he said, pausing momentarily. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” He sat on the end of the bed and removed his shoes, then stood and methodically undid his belt. While she stood stunned, barely able to believe what she was viewing, he unzipped his pants and calmly stepped out of them.

  Erin sucked in a sharp breath and backed up two or three paces. Brand must have sensed her movement, because he glanced up, seemingly surprised to find her standing so far away from him.

  “Take off your clothes,” he ordered. He stood before her in his boxer shorts and T-shirt, seemingly impatient for her to remove her own things.

  “Brand, I…can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” he demanded. “You were plenty eager before. As I recall, you once told me you’d rather we were lovers. I was the one fool enough to insist we marry.”

  “Not like this,” she pleaded. “Not when you’re so…cold.”

  “Trust me, Erin, a few kisses will warm us both right up.” He walked over to her and systematically unbuttoned her coat. She stood, numb with disbelief. This couldn’t actually be happening, could it? In answer to her silent question, her coat fell to the floor.

  Brand’s eyes were on hers, and she noted that the anger was gone, replaced with some emotion she couldn’t name. With his gaze continuing to hold hers, Brand reached behind her for the zipper at the back of her dress. The hissing sound of it gliding open filled the room as though a swarm of bees were directly behind them. She raised her hands in a weak protest, but Brand ignored her.

  Easing the material over her smooth shoulders, he paused midway in his journey to press his moist, hot mouth to the hollow of her throat. Tense and frightened, Erin jerked slightly, then reached out and gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.

  “Brand,” she pleaded once more. “Please don’t…not like this.”

  “You’ll be saying a lot more than please before we’re finished,” he assured her.

  His mouth traveled at a leisurely pace up the side of her neck, across the sensitized skin at the underside of her jaw. Despite everything, his nearness warmed her blood.

  Everything was different now. He was loving and gentle and so incredibly male. He smelled of musk. Erin had forgotten how much she enjoyed the manly fragrance that was Brand. He turned his head and nuzzled her ear with his nose, and unable to resist him any longer, Erin slipped her arms around his middle and tentatively held on to his waist.

  He rewarded her with a soft kiss and braced his feet slightly apart. Then, dragging her by the hips, he urged her forward until she was tucked snugly between his parted thighs. Once she was secure, he slipped her arms free of the restricting material of her dress and slowly eased it over her hips.

  Erin wasn’t ready for this new intimacy and resisted. Brand reacted by kissing her several times until she willingly parted her mouth to eagerly receive his kisses. The gathered silk material of her dress pooled at her feet.

  His hands were at the waistband of her tap pants when he paused as though he expected her to resist him anew. “I think we should stop now,” she whispered, knowing that if the loving continued much longer they’d both be lost.

  “That’s the problem,” he whispered, his mouth scant inches from her own. “We both think too much. This time we’re going to feel.”

  “Oh, Brand…” She was confused and uncertain but too needy to care.

  “I want you, Erin, and by heaven, I fully intend to have you.”

  If she pushed him away or made the slightest protest, Erin was convinced, Brand would immediately cease their lovemaking. But she seemed incapable of doing either. All she could seem to manage was a weak mewling sound deep in her throat that encouraged Brand to take further liberties with her. She felt torn between the dictates of her body and the decree of her pride. She couldn’t allow this to happen, and yet she was powerless to stop him.

  He kissed her again and again. A trembling started in her knees, spreading to her thighs until she could barely support herself. She sagged against Brand. He accepted her weight, and without her quite figuring out how he managed it, Erin found herself sprawled across the mattress with Brand lying alongside her.

  “My sweet Erin, oh, my love,” he whispered, his eyes tender. “Tell me you want me. I need you to say it…just this once. Give me that to remember you by.” The words were issued in sweet challenge between wild, carnal kisses.

  “Oh, Brand.” She breathed his name when she could, but talking, indeed breathing, had become less and less important.

  “Say it,” he demanded again, easing his hands over her flat, smooth stomach to caress the womanly part of her.

  “Do you want me?” he whispered.

  “Yes…oh, yes.”

  Erin had never felt as she did at that moment. Never so needy or so feminine. He kissed her and moved over her, his hands in her hair, lifting her mouth upward to meet his. Brand made her feel as if she were exploding from the inside out. This feeling, so beautiful, so brilliant and warm, filled her eyes with tears that splashed onto her cheeks.

  He straddled her, eager now, his hands gripping the waistband of her tap pants. He paused when he noticed her tears.

  Slowly he eased himself off her and sat on the edge of the mattress, his eyes closed. “I can’t do it. Dear God in heaven, I can’t do it.”

  Erin couldn’t move. Her breasts were heaving, and tears rained down the side of her face and leaked onto the bedspread. “
It would never work between us, Brand. I couldn’t bear to go through a divorce.” She paused and twisted her head away so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  “You honestly believe that, don’t you?” He slowly shook his head.

  “I do mean it. Would I put us through this torture if I didn’t?”

  “Honest to God, I don’t know.” Before she fully realized his intention, Brand moved off the bed and reached for his clothes.

  Erin sat up, distributing her weight on the palms of her hands. He was actually dressing. A few moments earlier he’d been preparing to make love to her, and now he was dressing. “I want you, Erin,” he said when he’d finished. “I’ll probably regret not making love to you to the day they lower me into my grave.”

  “But why…aren’t you?”

  “Damned if I know. Maybe it’s because I count your father as a friend.” He paused and rubbed his hand across his face. “More likely I’m afraid if we make love, once would never be enough, and we’d spend the rest of our lives the way we have the last eight months. Personally, I can’t deal with that. I don’t think you could, either.”

  He was right; she’d never been so miserable.

  “Go ahead and get dressed.”

  “First you demand that I undress, now you want me to dress. I wish you’d kindly make up your mind,” she muttered peevishly. She scooted off the mattress and reached for her clothes, jerking them on impatiently.

  “You claimed you wanted to talk,” she reminded him once she’d finished.

  He nodded. “Coming here wasn’t a brilliant idea.” His smile was decidedly off center. He hesitated, his eyes sad. “My anger frightened you?”

  “Only at first, when you seemed so indifferent.”

  He nodded and leaned against the wall, as if standing upright were becoming too much of a burden for him. “You meant what you said in that letter?”

  Erin closed her eyes and nodded.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Brand, I’d give anything if I could be different. Anything, but—”

  “Don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “It isn’t necessary.”