Navy Brat

“Not really.” What did catch her unawares was the feeling of homecoming. There had never been one single base her family had been assigned to through the years that gave Erin this sort of abstract feeling of home. From the time she could remember, her life had belonged to the navy. Her father would receive shipping orders, and without a pause her family would pack up everything they owned and head wherever her father’s commanding officer decreed. Erin had hated it with a fierceness that went beyond description. Nothing was ever her own, there was no sense of permanency in her life, no sense of security. What she had one day—her friends, her school, her neighbors—could be taken from her the next.

Brand’s fingers reached for hers and squeezed tightly. “You look sad.”

“I do?” She forced a note of cheerfulness into her voice, needing to define her feelings. Brand had brought her here. For the first time since she’d left her family, she’d returned to a navy base. She’d agreed to Brand’s suggestion of a tour with flippant disregard for any emotions she might experience.

The wounds of her youth, although she knew she was being somewhat melodramatic to refer to them that way, had been properly bandaged with time. She’d set the course of her life and hadn’t looked back since. Then, out of the blue, Brand Davis had popped in, determined, it seemed, to untie the compress so carefully wrapped around her heart.

As she stood outside the Sand Point grounds, she could almost feel the bandages slackening. Her first instinct was to tug them back into place, but she couldn’t do that with the memories. Happy memories, carefree memories, came at her from every angle. The longer she stood there, the longer she soaked in the feelings, the more likely the bandage was to drop to her feet. Erin couldn’t allow that to happen.

“I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed living in Seattle,” she whispered, barely aware she was speaking.

“Where were you stationed afterward?”

Erin had to think about it. “Guam, as I recall…. No, we went to Alaska first.”

“You hated it there?”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my favorite place in the world, but it was tolerable…. We weren’t there long.” The sun actually did shine at midnight, and the mosquito was teasingly referred to as the Alaska state bird. Actually, Erin had loved Alaska, but they’d been there such a short while.

“How long?”

“Four months, I’d guess. There was some screwup, and almost overnight we were given orders and shipped to Guam. Now that was one place I really did enjoy.”

“Did you ever take picnics on Guam?”

Erin had to think that one over, and she couldn’t actually remember one way or the other. “I suppose we did.”

“And how did you enjoy those?”

Erin glanced in Brand’s direction and studied him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I have the funny feeling this is a leading question?”

“Because it is.” Brand grinned at her, and the sun broke through whatever clouds there were that day. “I packed us a lunch, and I was hoping to persuade you to go on a picnic with me.”

“Where?” Not that it mattered. The question was a delaying tactic to give her time to sort through her scattered feelings. A tour of Sand Point was one thing, but lying down on the grass feeding each other grapes was another.

“Anywhere you want.”

“Ah?” Her mind scurried as she tried to come up with the names of parks, but for the life of her Erin couldn’t remove the picture of Brand pressing a grape to her lips and then bending over to kiss her and share the juicy flavor.

“Erin?”

“How about Woodland Park? If you haven’t visited the zoo, you should. Seattle has one of the country’s best.” That way she could feed the animals and take her mind off Brand. The choice was a good one for another reason, as well. Woodland Park was sure to be crowded on a day as bright and sunny as this one.

Erin was right. They were fortunate to find parking. Brand frowned as he glanced around them, and she could almost hear his thoughts. He’d been hoping she’d lead him to a secluded hideaway, and she’d greatly disappointed him. He might as well become accustomed to it. Erin had agreed to see him again, but she absolutely refused to become romantically involved.

“Just who do you think you’re kidding?” she muttered under her breath. Her stomach had been tied up in knots for the last hour while she’d replayed over and over again in her mind this ridiculous scene about them sharing grapes. For all she knew, he might have brought along apples, or oranges, or omitted fruit altogether.

“You said something?” Brand asked, giving her an odd look.

“No…”

“I thought you did.”

She was going to have to examine this need to talk out loud to herself. As far as she could see, the best tactic was to change the subject. “I’m starved.”

“Me too.” But when he glanced her way, his gaze rested squarely on her mouth, as if to say he was eager to eat all right, but his need wasn’t for food.

Her beautiful Irish eyes were moody, Brand decided. Moody and guarded. Brand didn’t know what he’d done—or hadn’t done—that disturbed Erin so much. From the moment they’d driven away from the naval station, he’d toyed with the idea of asking her what was wrong. He hadn’t, simply because he knew she’d deny that anything was troubling her.

Brand wasn’t pleased with her choice of parks for their picnic. The zoo was a place for family and kids. He’d be lucky if they found five minutes alone together. But then, that was exactly the reason Erin had chosen it.

Brand, on the other hand, wanted seclusion and privacy. He wanted to kiss Erin again. Hell, he needed to kiss Erin again. The thought had dominated his mind for days. She was so incredibly soft and sweet. He swore he’d never kissed another woman who tasted of honey the way she did. The sample she’d given him hadn’t been nearly enough to satisfy his need. For days he’d been telling himself he’d blown the kiss up in his mind, way out of proportion. Nothing could have been that good.

“Anyplace around here will do,” she said.

He followed her into the park, his gaze scanning the rolling green landscape and falling on a large pond. The space under the trees near the shore looked the most promising. He suggested there.

“Sure,” she responded, but she sounded uncertain.

Brand smoothed out the gray navy-issue blanket on the lawn and set the wicker basket in the center of it.

“If you’d said something earlier, I would have baked brownies,” Erin said, striving, Brand thought, to sound conversational.

“You can next time.” The implication was there, as blatant as he could make it. He would be seeing her again. Often. As frequently as their schedules allowed. He planned on it, and he wanted her to do the same.

“What did you pack for us?” Her voice sounded hollow, as if it were coming from an abandoned well.

“Nothing all that fabulous.” Kneeling on the blanket, he opened the basket and set out sandwiches, a couple of cans of cold pop, potato chips and two oranges.

Erin’s gaze rested on the oranges for the longest moment. They were the large Florida variety, juicy, she suspected, and sweet.

“Do you want the turkey on white or the corned beef on whole wheat?”

“The turkey,” she answered.

Next Brand opened the chips and handed her the bag. She grabbed a handful and set them on top of a napkin. For all her claims about being famished, Brand noted, she barely touched her food.

He sat, leaning his back against the base of the tree, and stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. “You’re looking thoughtful.”

Her responding smile was weak. “I…I was just thinking about something one of the women in my class told me.”

“What was that?”

Her head came up, and her gaze collided with his. “Ah…it’s difficult to explain.”

“This class means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

Erin nodded. “One of the women has been on my mind the last couple of days. She hasn’t centered herself yet, and—”