Beginning with You

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I thought you were chasing me,” Rook admitted.

  “I know.”

  “I guess I’m a little flighty when it comes to men.”

  He nodded. “From what you’ve told me so far, men haven’t exactly been good news in your life.”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” Rook protested.

  “I never thought that. Wary, yes—but not afraid.”

  She gave him a searching look. “Just how many layers are there to you, Jim Barton? Are you sure you aren’t a psychologist, on top of being a timber baron?”

  Jim reluctantly released Rook. He had to tack and needed both hands to do it. “Thirty-two years of living have provided me with some wisdom about people’s ways and motivations. Well,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her as he got up, “maybe we can change that image you have of men, with time. Come on, I’ll show you how to help tack this lady over to the starboard side. In a couple hours you’ll be able to call yourself a sailor.”

  “I don’t want this day to end,” Rook admitted wistfully, as Jim lowered the sails. They were about to enter the docking area. She sat at the helm, watching him guide The Rainbow with the tiller and the aid of a small, five-horsepower motor.

  The sun was dipping behind the Olympic National Forest to the west, the shadows deepening around them.

  He smiled down at her. Rook’s nose was sunburned, and her gray eyes shone with new life. “The sailing did you a lot of good,” he noted.

  With a grimace, Rook touched her cheeks. “I’ll bet I’m red as a lobster!”

  “Just your nose. And you look beautiful….”

  Sliding her hands back into her lap, Rook turned away. Beautiful. Coming from Jim, she knew it wasn’t a line. It was a husky, heart-stopping compliment. Over a hundred small boats bobbed in individual slips around the huge quay. Rook didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Tired?” Jim prodded mildly, swinging The Rainbow into her berth with ease.

  “Yes.” Rook watched as Jim shut off the motor and went forward to tie the boat to the dock. He did everything with such confidence and natural ease. That is what drew her to him: his easygoing nature. The men she’d known had pushed and hounded her—a quarry to be caught, captured and then coldly released. Jim had put his arm around her only twice.

  Torn, Rook stood up as Jim offered her his hand from the wharf. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. As his fingers closed around her, swallowing up her small hand, she was aware of how gentle he was, despite his bearlike strength.

  Jim lifted Rook lightly to the dock and released her. He grinned down at her, his hair tousled by the wind. “Well, what did you think? Do you want to sail her again sometime?”

  Reaching out, Rook touched Jim’s denim jacket sleeve. It was an unthinking action on her part. “I’d love to do it. This is so different from flying.”

  “More relaxing, I’ll bet.” Risking everything, Jim moved to her side, sliding his arm around her proud, small shoulders. Would Rook tense and pull away, or would she welcome him?

  “I think it’s the company I’m keeping that makes it so much fun,” she teased back. Falling into step with Jim, Rook leaned against him as they wandered slowly down the creaky wooden dock toward the parking lot, where his gray Corvette was parked. Savoring the sense of protection Jim gave her, Rook marveled at the range of emotions he was drawing from her.

  “So, what’s up tomorrow for you?” Jim asked.

  “Another day at work. We’ve got a terrible flight schedule, and the other pilots are working every other day on SAR duty. The captain wants me on the flight line as soon as possible.”

  “You’re going to be busy, then.”

  Rook nodded. “I was lucky to get this weekend off. I know it won’t happen again until the captain can get the flight roster straightened out. That won’t be for another three weeks.”

  “Yeah, we’re going into our busy season, too. Dad wants us to open up Bravo area, a new lease we were just awarded by the government. The soil’s still pretty unstable up there because of the spring rains, so I’m trying to get him to wait.”

  “But he’s full steam ahead on it?”

  Worriedly, Jim muttered, “Dad can’t sit still. He finds opening up a new area a real challenge. This is one time when I wish he’d wait.” And then he laughed, leaning down to unlock the passenger side of the car. “But who am I to tell him what to do? He founded our company fifty years ago with blood, sweat and his Irish ethics of long hours, six days a week.”

  The idea of not seeing Jim for three weeks was disconcerting. Rook slid into her seat.

  “With our crazy schedules,” Jim suggested, shutting his door and putting on the seat belt, “how about if you call me when you get a free day in your schedule? I’ll try to work around it, and we’ll take The Rainbow out again if the weather’s cooperating.”

  As she held his gaze, Rook felt herself go shaky inside.

  Jim hadn’t touched her, but the longing in his eyes was enough to make her excruciatingly aware that she was a woman, in every meaning of the word. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I’ll do that.”

  Jim started the car. What he’d wanted to do was lean those scant inches and claim Rook’s full lips. The desire was in her eyes, but so was confusion. Patience, Jim told himself. Be patient and be yourself.

  Putting the Corvette in gear, Jim guided it slowly out of the parking lot. “Let’s hope Monday is a good day for both of us.”

  Rook groaned, leaning back and smiling. “How do Mondays treat you?”

  “Lousy. You?”

  “The same.”

  “Then expect to find a fresh bouquet of roses on your desk tomorrow morning, Ms. Caldwell. When things start to go wrong, you just lean over and smell them. Think of us and the day we shared.”

  Eve could barely hide her nervousness as she stepped into the personnel office of the Coast Guard station. This Monday morning heralded her new status in the world as a full-time reporter. Anticipation thrummed through her as she halted, eyeing the secretarial pool in the center of the huge, well-lit area. To the left were the glass-enclosed offices in which the pilots performed their collateral duties.

  A shiver of dread ran through Eve as she spotted what could only be Lieutenant Rook Caldwell, working hard at her desk. Her heart sank. She wasn’t pretty—she was beautiful, Eve realized with anxiety. And Gil had been assigned as her sponsor, meaning he’d be spending even more time with her during her first months on the station. Gathering what little courage she had left, Eve watched Jody Theron as she approached.

  “I’m here to see Lieutenant Caldwell,” Eve said, a tremor in her voice.

  Jody hesitated. “Well—uh, she’s busy right now, Mrs. Logan.”

  Triumphantly, Eve displayed her press pass. She squared her shoulders and tried to sound brisk and businesslike even though she was dying inside. “I’m here on official business, Jody, as a reporter for the Star. I’ve been assigned to interview Lieutenant Caldwell.”

  “I’ll tell her you’re here—”

  Eve stepped past the enlisted woman. She had to move or she was going to lose her nerve. “Don’t bother, sweetie. I’ll introduce myself,” she said as she swept by.

  Rook scowled, hearing the door to her office open and then close. She’d given Jody Theron strict orders that she wasn’t to be disturbed. Twisting a look to the left, Rook’s frown deepened. A sleek, well-dressed blonde woman stood poised at the door. She wore a black skirt, a scarlet blouse that matched the color of her lipstick and a short black jacket. Rook sensed danger. The woman’s green eyes were narrowed and anxious-looking. And there was an aura of tension around her as she clutched a tape recorder in her right hand and a yellow legal pad beneath her left arm.

  “Yes? May I help you?” Rook asked, placing the pen on her desk.

  Throat suddenly dry, Eve forced herself to speak. “I’m Eve Logan, the wife of Lieutenant Gil Logan, Ms. Caldwell.” She moved restlessly, shutting the door with fin
ality behind her. “I’m sure Gil hasn’t told you yet, but I’m a reporter for our local newspaper, the Port Angeles Star.” Eve’s heart was pounding so loud in her breast that she wondered if Rook could hear it. Eve set the iPhone microphone function and set it down and turned it on. Taking out a pen, she smiled. “My editor is just dying to get the scoop on you. Gil told me you’re one of only six women Coast Guard pilots. You’ve got to be proud. So, if you’ll give me a few minutes of your time, I’ll get my interview.”

  Hesitating, Rook turned around in her chair. Today she was dressed in her summer uniform and not her flight suit. Her military training had been in aviation. She didn’t know the regulations concerning reporters coming on base unannounced for impromptu interviews. “Mrs. Logan—”

  “Do call me Eve. After all, you’re one of us.”

  “Look, I don’t know if I can give you an interview—”

  “Of course you can! Why, I’m a member of the Coast Guard family. I can assure you that my interview with you will be very positive and uplifting. And I’m sure the new captain would rather have the wife of a military officer do the story than a civilian.” She wrinkled her nose disdainfully, beginning to relax. Being a reporter wasn’t so hard, after all. “You know how civilians love to gut the military.” Smiling, Eve leaned against the desk. “Now, let’s begin at the beginning….”

  Half an hour later, Rook stared at the red roses that had arrived shortly before Eve Logan. Uneasy, but unable to figure out why, Rook got up. “I think you’ve got plenty for your interview, Mrs. Logan.”

  “Eve. Tell me, who gave you these lovely roses? I can tell they must have cost a lot of money.”

  Rook’s jaw tightened. “They’re from a friend.”

  “She smiled brightly. “The name?”

  “It’s not for publication,” Rook said tightly.

  Shutting off the recorder, Eve continued to smile, feeling much better. She had been successful. “Admirers already. Of course, you’re very beautiful, and I’m sure every single man in Port Angeles will want to go out with you. I just know this is going to be a wonderful article, Rook! You’ve given me so much material. What a fascinating person you are.” Eve tried to look sincerely at Rook through her lashes. “You and my husband must see a lot of each other. He’s your sponsor, he drives you to work and you fly with him.”

  Warning grated across Rook’s exposed nerves. As warm as Eve’s voice was, her eyes were brutally cold upon her. Okay, she got the message. Loud and clear. “Not as often as you might think,” Rook said, trying to keep her own emotions out of the confrontation. Eve wasn’t here for an interview, as much as to subtly warn her away from Gil.

  With a weak smile, Eve deposited the tape recorder back into her oversized purse. “I must be going. Deadlines, you know. Thanks so much!”

  Distracted, Rook watched Eve float out the door. Shaking her head, she turned back to her desk. Eve’s warning kept nagging at her. Dammit, she was going to have to ask Gil not to drive her anymore. Rook didn’t want this kind of warfare with the pilots’ wives on top of everything else.

  Blowing out a breath of air, Rook stared at her red roses. Yes, Eve had been nervous and unsure of herself. She was obviously upset that Gil was Rook’s sponsor. She would draw blood if Rook didn’t do something to parry this first attack. Her stomach began to knot. Who could she get to drive her? Shutting her eyes, Rook realized she had only one option—Noah.

  Noah couldn’t mask his surprise when he saw Rook boarding his cutter. Standing on the bridge with the bos’n, Dave Harper, he watched her progress across the sleek deck of the Point Countess.

  “Dave, why don’t you take the day off? You don’t have the duty,” Noah suggested.

  The sandy-haired man nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you at 0800 tomorrow, then.”

  Noah nodded, turning and leaning against the steel counter to wait. What did she want? He found himself suddenly hoping that Rook had come to her senses and wanted to talk. And, maybe, to make amends.

  Rook stood just outside the hatch that led onto the cramped bridge of the Point Countess. Noah greeted her with an unsure smile. She managed one of her own.

  “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

  He gestured for her to enter, pointing to the seat in front of the helm wheel. “Permission granted. Come in.”

  Rook hated appearing nervous in front of him, but she couldn’t help herself. She toyed absently with the black leather purse hanging from her left shoulder. “I won’t stay long, Noah. I know you’re busy.”

  “Never too busy to see you, though.” He gave her all the room there was to spare as she inched toward a chair bolted securely to the deck. Walking over to the hatch, he slid the door shut so that their conversation would remain private.

  Most of the men were taking off for home, anyway, so the cutter was almost deserted for the night, with the exception of Cunningham, who had to stand duty. The gentle, rolling motion of the boat soothed Noah’s jangled nerves.

  “Look…I have a favor to ask of you, Noah.”

  He brightened. “Sure.”

  Rook gave him an I-don’t-believe-it look.

  Grinning sheepishly, Noah said, “Hey, I’d do anything for you, so don’t look so shocked. What is it?”

  Fidgeting, Rook slid her fingers along the top of the chair. “I need a ride into the base every day. My car was hit by a timber truck the first day I got here, and the mechanic over at Sequim says it will take at least two weeks before I get my wheels back.”

  “What accident? Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? Are you all right?”

  Rook tried to shrug off Noah’s concern and gave him a brief explanation of the accident. Did he truly care, or was he just pretending to? She tried to ferret out deceit on his part and could find none.

  Noah scowled, relieved that Rook hadn’t been injured. “I’m glad you came to me.”

  Rook eyed him. “You weren’t my first choice, Noah, but I can’t afford to have the pilots taking me to and from work. It wouldn’t look good.”

  “It wouldn’t?”

  She made a sound of exasperation, dropping her purse on the seat and looking around the bridge. “All the guys are married. Don’t you see? I’m single, female helo pilot.”

  “Oh…the jealous wife angle?”

  “You got it.” She turned to him. “Will you promise not to say anything to anyone about this conversation?”

  Swallowing a smile, Noah nodded. “Sure. Is that why you’re nervous?”

  Rook nodded, looking out the windows of the bridge, thinking how calm the straits looked in the mauve evening light. “Just an hour ago Lieutenant Logan’s wife, Eve, showed up unexpectedly at the station. She just happened by. And she just happened to find an excuse to check me out, too,” Rook rattled on. “You talk about a jealous wife, she’s one. God knows, I’ve got enough troubles of my own to juggle right now without her on my case for no reason.”

  “Did Mrs. Logan say anything to you?”

  Releasing a heavy sigh, Rook held Noah’s compassionate stare. “Do you know how many people there are in that one office alone? Ten. That’s ten sets of ears, eyes and mouths. That’s not to say that there are ten brains between them, though. Jody Theron is the base gossip.”

  “I’ve heard about her,” Noah said drily. “Real pretty little gal, but she has a double-edged tongue.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s all true. I was in my office, busting my tail on this PR assignment for Captain Stuart, and Eve Logan comes waltzing into my office unannounced and without an appointment. She gives me one of these smiles designed to cut you down from forty yards and then proceeds to tell me she’s a reporter from the local paper and would love to interview me. All the while she’s scoping me out, measuring me up like I’m a piece of meat to be butchered at some later date.”

  “Was your office door closed?”

  “Yes. But I was too stunned by the whole thing to think straight.” Rook rubbed her face. “God, Noah, you’d
think that my flying reflexes would transfer over to human crisis encounters.”

  His smile softened. “It never works that way, Rook.”

  “So I’m finding out. Well, I got a lift from Gil Logan this morning, and he offered to help me the two weeks my car’s in for repairs. But after Mrs. Logan came in and dropped all kinds of catty innuendos, I can’t afford to have other wives getting angry, like she is, simply because I’m riding to and from work with their husbands.”

  ‘Tell you what. I have a black Ford pickup. If you want to keep it for the duration, you can pick me up at my apartment every morning. At night, I can get one of my men to give me a lift home.”

  She stared at Noah, stunned by his generous offer. “But—won’t you need the truck at night?”

  He shook his head. “Captain Stuart, the District and I are putting together a drug interdiction plan, so I’ve got plenty of homework to do for the next few weeks.” He grinned. “Besides, Port Angeles doesn’t exactly have great pickings for a bachelor.”

  She looked to her left, toward the town of seventeen thousand situated at the base of the Olympic Mountains. ‘This place is sort of in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”

  “If you’re married, Port Angeles isn’t a bad town. But if you’re single, and looking for a place to meet women other than at a bar, you can hang it up.”

  Rook caught herself. She was letting down her guard. That wasn’t good. “Look, if you mean it about your truck, I could use the favor. But if you need it some night, unexpectedly, let me know.”

  Noah picked up his cap and slid open the hatch. “I will. Come on, you can give me a lift home, and the truck will be yours.”

  He lived in an apartment complex at the foot of the mountains. The slopes behind the building were lush with spring grass and newly sprouted wild flowers. Noah glanced over at Rook before he opened the door to get out.

  “Sure you wouldn’t like to go out to dinner?”

  “No. Thanks anyway.”

  Noah nodded. “Maybe another time, then.” He’d never be able to push Rook into trusting him. She’d have to come to him on her own terms. Noah settled for that, silently thanking Jim Barton for the accident that had sent Rook to him for help. Otherwise, he would have been at his wit’s end trying to figure out a way to approach Rook and get their relationship on better footing. “I’ll see you at half past seven, sis.”