Navy Orders Page 6

  * * *

  THE CHILLY SPRING evening proved too much for Ro’s cotton sweater. She closed the sliding glass door behind her, cheered by the bright colors of her family room while she waited for the warmth of the house to chase away her goose bumps.

  She didn’t remember when she’d started, but sometime during her carrier tour she’d begun knitting decorative accessories out of the brightest hues she could find. She’d collected skeins of lush yarns in fibers she relished and brought a box of them on her deployment. Her downtime on the ship was basically nil, but every now and then she’d find a moment to pull out the yarn and start a pillow cover. The bright colors perked up the drab navy-gray and olive hues of her carrier stateroom, and gave her mind a brief escape from the pace of wartime carrier operations.

  Once she’d returned stateside, the pillowcases turned into afghans, and then she found herself working on the wall hanging that hung over her bed. Her knitting wasn’t anything she shared with others—she knew there was a group of knitters and crocheters that met every week in downtown Oak Harbor because she saw the flyers whenever she shopped for wool. But what if one of those women was the spouse of someone she worked with? What if it was another active duty person she saw every day? She valued her privacy and didn’t want to share her hobby with anyone else.

  The guys at work would have the ultimate weapon to tease her with if they knew she knitted. This super girly side of her belied the warrior image she wanted to project at work. Regardless of how good-natured her colleagues were, she didn’t need them prying into the one thing that gave her peace of mind no matter what was going on around her.

  She looked at her watch again. Still forty-five minutes until she had to check back in with Miles. Unless he called sooner, it was certainly enough time to get in a few rows on the chemo cap she’d started last night.

  Last night.

  It seemed a lifetime ago. Before she’d finally pitched the diamond. When Petty Officer Perez had still been drawing breath.

  The repetitive motion of her fingers began to work their magic. Fifteen minutes was all she needed....

  Her doorbell sounded through her reverie.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She quickly finished her row and shoved the project back into the cloth drawstring bag she used to stash her works in progress. It was bright neon green and had an equally neon pink sheep printed on the side.

  If Miles had found out from the wing roster where she lived and had come here early—instead of letting her meet him—he was going to be sorry. But then it occurred to her that something critical might have happened regarding the investigation.

  She opened the front door.

  “Miles, I—”

  The words lodged in her throat.

  “I’m leaving Richard. Who’s Miles?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RO GAPED AT her younger half sister, Krissy. Her shoulder-length hair was its regular dyed platinum blond, but had unusually long, dark roots. Krissy never let her roots show. Ro took in the rumpled hair, the circles under her baby-blue eyes, the complete lack of makeup. Krissy was dressed in a wrinkled sweatsuit and looked nothing like the fashion plate she usually resembled. And she was...heavier. Fuller.

  Heavier? Krissy―who put the skinny in skinny jeans―heavier?

  Upon further inspection she concluded that Krissy was plumper in one particular area.

  “Did you have a boob job?”

  “Great way to greet your only sister after you cut her out of your life for over a year. Nice going, Ro.”

  “You’re my half sister. And you married my, oh, what was it? Yes, that’s it—my fiancé. While I was at war. No biggie.”

  “It’s time to get over it, Ro. I’m pregnant and I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “Didn’t Mom tell you? I’m due in February.”

  “So you’re...four months along? I haven’t spoken to Mom since Christmas, really.” She left out Mother’s Day—she’d had a very brief conversation with Delores then.

  Anger-induced tears welled in her tired eyes. Of course Mom hadn’t told her. Why would she? In her usual meddling manner Mom probably thought she was protecting Krissy from Ro’s jealousy and disappointment that she wasn’t the pregnant one.

  That she wasn’t the one married to Dick.

  “Can I come in? I’m exhausted. I’ve flown all day and then the drive from Seattle was sooo long. Why can’t you live somewhere more civilized?”

  Ro stepped back.

  “You can come in, Krissy, but just for a minute.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m almost five months pregnant and my baby’s father is an ass. You’re all I have!”

  She’d been there all of thirty seconds and already Ro’s forehead pounded.

  “What about Mom? What about all your girlfriends? Why didn’t you just kick Dick out?”

  Ro walked ahead of Krissy, toward the kitchen.

  “I couldn’t kick Richard out. I didn’t really talk to him about this, you know.”

  Ro stopped in front of the refrigerator and turned back to face Krissy.

  “What are you saying, exactly, sis?”

  Krissy played with Ro’s knitting-related refrigerator magnets. Ro put her hand on the fridge door.

  “You didn’t tell him you were leaving?”

  “I don’t owe him anything! He’s been staying at work late and when he comes home all he does is eat, sleep and then go right back to work!”

  Ro sighed.

  “Of course he does, Krissy. He’s a surgeon. His work is his life.”

  Krissy wouldn’t make eye contact while she pouted. The sight of her spoiled, immature sister with a burgeoning pregnant belly made Ro’s blood boil. She’d been getting Krissy out of jams for far too long. After Krissy and Dick got married she’d promised herself she was free of Krissy’s neediness, Mom’s conniving and Dick’s constant demands—whenever he wasn’t in the O.R.

  It had worked for almost a year and a half.

  Almost.

  “You can stay here until you get on a plane and go back to New Jersey. I’m not your safety net anymore, Krissy.”

  “You have no idea what I’m going through! You’ve never had to worry about anyone but yourself.” Krissy’s eyes widened when she realized what she’d said.

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Ro. But you said it was a relief when Dick broke up with you.”

  “What else was I supposed to say? You’d already married him!” Ro shook her head. “You’re right, it was a relief—to be free of that relationship. It wasn’t going anywhere. But that doesn’t erase the lying and deceit you and Mom pulled.”

  “You hadn’t even seen him for over nine months!”

  “I was at war, Krissy. You know, keeping the world safe so that people like you and Dick could find each other and fall in love.”

  “Touché, sister.” Krissy pronounced it “touchy.”

  Ro rubbed the back of her neck.

  “Look, Krissy. I wasn’t expecting you. It’s the end of a very long week. I’m in the middle of a project at work that’s just begun and I won’t even be home this weekend. You need to catch a flight back to Newark. Now.”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “You had money to get here. Surely you didn’t buy a one-way ticket?”

  Ro was proud of herself. Not too long ago she would’ve paid for whatever Krissy asked for or needed. That all stopped when Krissy became Mrs. Richard Brewster.

  “Well, not exactly. I bought a nonrefundable ticket but my return flight isn’t until next month.”

  “Next month?” Heat crept up her neck and Ro was grateful she’d put the knitting needles away. If they
were in her hands she didn’t know if she’d stab her sister or herself from sheer frustration.

  Krissy had never grown up. Ever. And now she was going to be a mother. She was carrying Dick’s baby.

  Dick and Ro had never planned on having kids. It would have been too difficult with both of their demanding careers. So why did seeing the evidence of Krissy’s baby make Ro want to go to her room, slam the door and knit an ugly sweater?

  The doorbell jerked Ro out of her rumination.

  She looked at the clock on the microwave.

  “Crap.”

  She strode to the front door and, for the second time in ten minutes, opened the door.

  “Hey, Miles. I thought you were going to call.”

  Ro stared at Miles and thought his face was too damned handsome for someone who’d had as long a Friday as she had.

  “I did, but you didn’t pick up.” Belatedly, Ro realized she’d left her cell phone in her car. “I thought I’d stop by—you realize we only live two neighborhoods apart?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. Come on in.”

  “Who’s there, Roanna?”

  Ro turned and looked over her shoulder as Miles stepped into her tiny front hall and Krissy poked her head around the corner from the kitchen.

  “A work colleague.” She sighed. “Miles, this is Krissy. Krissy, Miles.”

  “Hi! I’m Ro’s sister.” Krissy walked over to Miles as she held a dish towel in front of her belly and gave a flirty little wave with her free hand. Did she really think Miles wouldn’t see she was pregnant?

  Why did it bother her if Krissy wanted to flirt with Miles, anyway?

  “Krissy’s my half sister. She dropped in for a quick visit. Unfortunately, she’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Miles smiled at Krissy, and the resulting stab of awareness in her midsection made Ro take notice. She’d never seen that nice a smile on Miles’s face before. God, was he flirting back with her pregnant half sister?

  Wish it was you?

  His gaze jolted her back from her unwelcome revelation.

  “We need to go. It’s going to be a late night.” He held up his phone. “I got a text from Ross. This is a good time for us to head over to the house.”

  “Who’s Ross?” Krissy inserted herself as though she were working the case with Miles.

  “He’s our CSO, the wing’s number two guy.” Ro was not in the mood to explain the navy staff system to Krissy.

  “Don’t worry about me here, Ro. I’ll be fine.” Krissy was only too cooperative when it suited her needs.

  Ro gritted her teeth.

  “I’m not worried about you, Krissy, not at all. You’re an adult, and I know you need the time to make sure your travel arrangements back to New Jersey are squared away for tomorrow.”

  Krissy ignored her and kept her gaze on Miles.

  “Is she always this serious at work, too, Miles? Ro’s never learned how to lighten up.”

  “Ah, Ro is the consummate professional at work. I don’t really know how she is outside of work.” He offered Krissy a placid enough expression, but Ro saw the muscle twitch next to his mouth. He’d love to add that she wasn’t the most cooperative woman he’d ever known, she’d bet a skein of cashmere on it.

  To his credit, Miles kept his trap shut. Ro reluctantly gave him more points.

  “I’ve got what I need—let me get my backpack.” She squeezed past Krissy into the kitchen. Ro’s home was the perfect size for her but with Krissy and now Miles inside she found it claustrophobic.

  The fact that Miles towered over her and was built like a rock didn’t help matters.

  He’d barely fit in your sleigh bed.

  No matter how professional she was, she couldn’t stop herself from being human.

  She just hoped she’d keep her most human instincts under wraps.

  When she felt the door latch behind her she let out a deep breath and went into the still night with Miles.

  * * *

  THE IMMEDIATE, PALPABLE quiet was rare for Whidbey Island. Since it was perched on the most northwestern corner of the continental United States, every weather formation that came in from the Pacific or down from the Artic passed over the island. Ro often imagined her cottage was at the very edge of the earth. The winds had a habit of being unforgiving and brutal to anything but the native fauna.

  It was so quiet she could hear Miles’s breathing as they walked down her winding drive to the road where he’d parked.

  His motorcycle.

  “Where’s your truck?” She bit her lip. She’d have to go back to the garage and get her car—no way was she riding on that bike.

  He sent her a mischievous smile. “Left it at home. Too many people know my truck. This way we’ll be more under the radar.”

  “‘We’? I’m not getting on that. Besides, can you, uh, are you able to manage two people?”

  “Two’s as easy as one, Ro. It’s my thighs that grip the seat, not my calves. And my prosthetic leg does what I need it to, even on a motorbike.” He eyed her with restrained patience in the still-light evening. Whidbey Island was so far up north that the sun stayed up until nine or so on a spring evening.

  “I’ve had the bike outfitted to my specifications.” Of course he had. He was an amputee, not an invalid.

  She put her palms to her shame-heated cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Miles. I’m not questioning your ability.”

  “Yeah, you are, Roanna.”

  “It’s not you, it’s me, really—I’m not the motorcycle type. Besides, isn’t there some navy regulation that prevents us from riding motorcycles?”

  “The only reg that says anything about it is that we can’t drive recklessly. I don’t do that.” He cocked one eyebrow at her. “As for not being the bike ‘type,’ you may surprise yourself. You look like you’d adapt in no time.”

  Shame turned to desire and inflamed her face, her throat, her stomach. Just the briefest flirtation with Miles set her on fire.

  This investigation needed to get wrapped up fast or she risked breaking the one promise she’d made to herself and had always kept.

  Never date a man in uniform, especially one you work with.

  Unfortunately, the population of single men in Oak Harbor who weren’t on active duty greatly diminished her chances of finding someone to distract her from Miles.

  And what will you do when you prove that no one tempts you as much as Miles does?

  * * *

  MILES KEPT HIS revelations to himself. The expression on Ro’s face when she spotted his bike had been priceless. She tried to be so tough and was quite the naval officer, but he was learning that she’d forgotten that it was okay to be a girl, too.

  Girl, hell. More like a woman of amazing beauty. Her large, round breasts couldn’t be hidden in her khaki uniform blouse. The formfitting hoodie she had on tonight left even less to his imagination—in which he’d already held Ro’s breasts and—

  He groaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Shit. He thought his sexual frustration had been silent.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He flipped up the top of the storage box and pulled out a helmet, which he handed to her.

  “Put this on and make sure the strap is snug, like a flight helmet.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You already told me. Frankly, Ro, I’ve never seen you as a pussy. Don’t start now.”

  Anger threw sparks out of her irises that almost made him laugh. But her anger wasn’t the passion he really wanted to spark. For now, it’d have to do.

  His strategy appeared to work as she shoved the helmet on her head.

  “You win this one, Miles, but if you pull any crap on the road—” she adj
usted the neck strap “—like speeding or making crazy turns―” she snapped the buckle on the strap into place “—or making me feel at all uncomfortable―” she pulled down the visor “—I’m done.”

  He hated not being able to see her eyes.

  “Got it.”

  He put on his own helmet and lifted his good leg, his right leg, over the bike. It was one of the many adjustments he’d had to make since losing the left leg. He used to mount bikes and horses alike with his left leg first. He still could if he really wanted to, but he felt much more stable doing it the new way.

  Ro remained next to the bike.

  “Get on.”

  She complied, although he understood beyond any measure of doubt that she did so only because she, too, was convinced this was the best way to travel at the moment—light, fast and basically undercover.

  His abdomen quickened when her hands reached around his waist and clasped in front of him. The fact that she didn’t even try to hold on to the back handle inexplicably pleased him.

  Despite her refusals to see him on a social basis, she trusted him on some gut level. She wouldn’t be on his bike, much less with her arms around his waist, unless she did.

  That insight was enough to make him pray she didn’t allow her hands to wander any farther south or she’d know just how much he wanted her to trust him.

  Miles smiled broadly under his helmet and revved the engine.

  He’d enjoyed an active, commitment-free sex life before the accident. It was the only kind he’d felt safe having; with worldwide missions that took him away often and unpredictably, he hadn’t wanted to settle down. He especially hadn’t wanted to worry that he’d left a widow or, heaven forbid, orphan behind.

  That was then, this was now. He’d had some time to think about his life and the fact that he wasn’t immortal. He’d known he could die while he was out on deployment—half expected it. It was part of the package when he signed on for explosive ordnance, and then again when he’d joined efforts with the SEALs on his last set of missions.

  He’d faced the possibility of his own death head-on.