Beginning with You (17 page)

“Just lie there,” he told her quietly. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Rook’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Jim. His face was shadowed in the darkness. Groggy, she muttered, “Your dad? Did they call?” And she groped for the phone, which she had placed next to her on the couch.

Jim caught her hand and held it gently. “Everything’s all right, Rook. They said he’s resting well.” He looked deeply into her vulnerable gray eyes. The husky quality of her voice moved him.

“You aren’t like any woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “First, you rescue Dad, and then you come and take care of me. You don’t look much better than I feel. The day had to be hell on you, too, in a different way.”

Unguarded when just awakened, Rook’s normal defenses weren’t in place. She responded to his low, unsteady voice. Despite all that had happened to him, Jim was still aware that the SAR case had affected her, too. But she had been too busy earlier to realize that she’d been in shock herself. “I’m okay….”

Jim gave her a slight smile that said he didn’t believe her. “Sure, and so am I. You don’t lie very well, lady….”

Rook slowly sat up with his help, wildly aware of him as a man. His father’s accident had stripped Jim, leaving him open and accessible to her. Unable to think coherently, Rook reacted out of instinct when she saw his eyes fill up with tears. Wordlessly, she slipped her arms around him, drawing him to her. Jim gripped her hard, squeezing the breath from her as he crushed her against him.

Rook ran her fingers through his short, dark hair, feeling the unbearable tension in his body. “He’s going to be all right, Jim. I just know it….” she crooned near his ear. And then she felt a shudder move through him, and she tightened her hold around him. Rocking him gently, as if he were a hurt child, Rook felt more than heard the sob that escaped him.

She buried her head next to Jim’s, tears squeezing from beneath her tightly shut eyes. She wasn’t sure any longer who was comforting whom. It didn’t matter, she discovered. For the first time in her life, she had trusted a man with her emotions. Although stunned by that realization, Rook didn’t care. What was important was getting Jim through the trauma reaction. She didn’t need to ask if he loved his father; she could tell by his wrenching sobs, which seemed to come from the depths of his soul.

Later, after his weeping ceased, Rook managed an unsteady smile and tried to dry his stubbled cheeks with her fingers. “Look at us,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “We’re a couple of crybabies.”

Jim shook his head. “No, just a couple of human beings caught between a rock and a hard place.” He framed her damp face, mesmerized by the luster in her eyes as she gazed at him. Words were useless to describe how he felt. Instead, he pulled Rook those scant inches forward, finding and drinking deeply of her tear-bathed lips.

Heat throbbed wildly through Rook as his mouth wreaked a fire of its own across her lips. Her fingers dug convulsively into his shoulders as he deepened the kiss between them.

The phone rang.

Easing from the welcoming warmth of her mouth, Jim sat up on the couch, one arm around Rook as he answered the phone. It had to be ICU.

Rook gripped Jim’s hand tightly. Was the hospital calling with good or bad news? What if his father died? She remembered the awful loss of her mother and the shock of the phone call telling her about it. She tried in vain to read Jim’s tense features.

He replaced the phone in the cradle, looking down at her. “He’s regaining consciousness.” His voice cracked. “The doctor said they’re taking him off the critical list.”

Rook made a muffled sound of joy and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jim, that’s wonderful!”

“No,” he said gruffly, holding her tightly, never wanting to let her go. “You are.”

Rook eased out of his arms, Jim’s words vibrating through her. She saw the raw honesty in his swollen eyes and heard it in the shaken tone of his voice. His kiss had been branding, forever changing how she felt about him. She could taste him on her lips. His vulnerability stripped her of her ability to erect a defense. Rook didn’t want any barriers between them—at least, not right now. Jim needed her.

“Listen, you’ve got to eat something. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Jim didn’t want to release her. Fighting his head and listening to his heart, he allowed his hands to slip from her slender waist. “I guess I’m hungry. I don’t feel like eating, but I know I should.”

Gripping his hand, Rook led him to the kitchen. “I’ll make some more scrambled eggs and toast.”

At the table, Jim pushed the eggs around on his plate. Rook sat at his elbow, doing the same thing. “We’re both a mess,” he muttered. “We can’t even force ourselves to eat.”

Rook pushed the eggs into her mouth, chewing them slowly. “Eat. Otherwise, we’re going to be no good to anyone. Your dad is going to need you more than ever, Jim.”

He gave her a faint smile, admiration in his eyes. “Mothering sort, aren’t you?”

Wearily, Rook smiled. “Some people tend to bring that trait out in me.”

Reaching over, Jim slid his hand over hers, gripping it gently. “That’s another thing I like about you. You care.”

Her appetite fled completely. The roughened warmth of his hand spread like a soothing balm across her tattered emotions. Placing her fork down on the plate, Rook whispered, “I think I’d better get going, Jim. It’s been a long day and a longer night.”

His hand tightened on hers and he held her gaze. “Stay tonight—please.”

Rook opened her mouth, then shut it. His kiss hovered hotly in her memory, simmering, beckoning. “I—”

“I don’t mean in my bed, Rook, if that’s worrying you. There’s a guest bedroom at the other end of the house.” Jim dragged in a ragged breath. “Right now, I need you. Just your presence…”

Closing her eyes, Rook hung her head. No man had ever told her he needed her. How could she tell him no? “Okay,” Rook choked out.

“Thanks,” he whispered, meaning it. Releasing her hand, he got to his feet. “Come on, I’ll show you where the guest room is located.”

It was nearly one o’clock before Jim felt tired enough to go back to bed. Two hours after Rook had told him good-night and disappeared into the guest bedroom, he was pacing the large sundeck that faced the dark straits. The May night was cool and damp, but it relieved the heat that was building explosively within him.

Resting against the cedar railing, Jim watched the low stratus clouds slide silently over Port Angeles. His father could have died today, but by some miracle, he hadn’t, thanks to Rook and the Coast Guard’s swift response. The kiss he’d shared with Rook had been nothing short of a miracle, too, infusing him with newfound hope and strength. Massaging his face in an attempt to think clearly, Jim felt the stubble of beard beneath his fingers. He raised his head. It had turned out to be a day of miracles, he decided humbly, shivering against the dropping temperature.

Turning, he padded barefoot back into the house, sliding the glass door shut and then locking it. The den was silent. Rubbing his chest unconsciously, Jim headed down the hall toward the guest bedroom. Knocking softly, he waited to see if Rook was still awake. There was no answer.

Opening the door, Jim stepped inside. Rook lay asleep, dressed in a pair of his oversized pajamas and lying on top of the covers. It was chilly, and she should have covered herself up.
Silly twit
, he thought, going over and picking up the rainbow afghan folded at the end of the bed. Carefully, Jim draped it across her body, taking care to not awaken her.

He stood there several minutes, etching her peaceful, sleeping features into his mind, his heart. There was still darkness beneath her glorious gray eyes, the black lashes thick against her flesh. And that wonderful mouth he’d tasted earlier…Jim took a deep, unsteady breath.

Tonight, he knew, Rook had exposed herself to him in many ways. Through this crisis, he’d seen the real Rook who hid behind those walls. Leaning down, Jim threaded several strands of her hair through his trembling fingers. Her hair was silken and clean, like gossamer threads spun from ebony eiderdown.

Crouching down, taking care not to disturb her, Jim placed his hand on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep, her hands beneath her cheek. Her hair provided a soft, dark frame for her face. It was a face he could study and trace for the rest of his life and about which he could always find something new and beautiful.

“I love you, Rook Caldwell.” His barely whispered words dissolved into the lulling darkness. Rising, Jim tucked a bit of the afghan around Rook’s shoulder and left.

Rook jerked awake when the alarm buzzed at six-thirty. Momentarily confused, she sat up, the afghan slipping off her as she fumbled to shut it off. As she looked around, the chain of events from last night slowly congealed in her barely functioning mind. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she croaked, setting the clock back on the bed stand.

Jim smiled a welcome as he entered with coffee on a tray. “I heard your alarm and figured you might like some coffee.”

With a groan of thanks, Rook reached for the cup after he’d placed the tray across her lap. “You’re wonderful. God, I need this….” And she took a scalding swallow.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Jim watched her. Rook’s eyes were puffy and sleep-ridden. That glorious cap of hair was an unruly mop that begged to be tamed back into place with his fingers. She looked like an endearing doll in his huge pajamas, the sleeves far too long, hampering her efforts to hold the cup between her hands.

“Looks like you need some help,” Jim said, taking the cup and placing it back on the tray. Patiently, he rolled up the sleeves until her hands were free.

Shyly, Rook looked up, drowning in the tender blueness of his eyes. “I’m pretty helpless the first half hour after I wake up,” she confessed, her voice still raspy. “How’s your dad? Have you heard anything? I didn’t hear the phone ring all night.”

“He slept well last night—that’s why you didn’t hear them call us. I just got done talking with Dr. Roher, and she says he’s resting comfortably.” Jim handed her the coffee and watched her long, slender fingers curve around the china cup. There was nothing but grace and elegance to Rook, just like the bird she was named after.

Rook reached out, gripping his hand. “That’s great news, Jim!”

He grinned at her sudden enthusiasm. “Yeah, it is good news, Wild Rose.”

The endearment rippled through Rook, sweet and filled with promise. She drank her coffee. “I’ve got to get going soon. I’m going to have to pick up a clean uniform over at my apartment before I go to the station.” She grimaced, running a hand across her hair. “And this mop of mine…”

Catching her hand midair, Jim said, “Beautiful hair. You look winsome when it’s tangled like this.”

The yearning in his voice filled her like sunshine warming a cold, freezing land. She watched as Jim cupped her hand within his, wildly aware of both his strength and incredible sensitivity as he studied her palm.

“Such small, capable hands,” he said huskily. Taking the cup, he placed it on the tray, holding her wide gray eyes. There was so much he read in them as he leaned forward, cupping her cheek.

Automatically, Rook closed her eyes, craving contact with his mouth once again. Last night had been explosive, unexpected, and both had been cheated by the phone ringing. Now…Rook whispered his name, wanting to complete what had begun in the fertile darkness hours before.

Jim heard her tremulous voice and felt the moistness of her breath against his cheek as he bent those last few inches to claim her. As he moved his mouth hotly against hers, he reveled in her taste and texture. Rook’s kiss was at once innocent and provocative. Moving his other hand to her neck, he framed her face, moving his tongue slowly across her lower lip, feeling her tremble subtly beneath his onslaught.

Each caress of Jim’s tongue brought another explosion of fire, entwined with melting desire. Rook’s hands slid up along the line of his chest, and she became aware of her femininity as never before—her fragileness against his size and overwhelming raw male intensity. His mouth devoured hers in worshipful adoration, heating her, cajoling her to revel in their oneness.

As his mouth slowly left her lips, Rook felt as if she had been torn away from what had made her whole. Dazed, she lifted her lashes, staring up in confusion at Jim, his face so near to hers. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared, but so was she. Rook drowned in the azure of his intense gaze, yearning for him.

“I think,” Jim began in a strained voice, “you’d better go.” He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. It took an embarrassingly long time for him to focus on and read the time. “It’s almost seven.”

Rook nodded, barely coherent. “I—yes.”

Getting up, Jim took the tray and headed to the door. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll drive you back over to the apartment.”

She got up after Jim closed the door. Her knees were weak. Weak! How could one kiss so devastate her? Her mind had turned into little more than jelly. Rook sat back down, dumbfounded, trying to think clearly. One kiss—one burning, branding kiss. Rook touched her lips and closed her eyes. Jim was potent, demanding, but his kiss hadn’t been any of those things. Instead, his mouth had been coaxing, inviting her to participate in their mutual exploration of one another. Rook wondered how she was going to piece herself together today.

Jim’s kiss had made her feel soft and womanly, had put her in touch with feelings she couldn’t begin to describe or ignore. Making a concerted effort, she stood up. First a shower and then a quick dash to her apartment before she went to the station. Rubbing her face, Rook wondered how she was going to function.

Noah was in her office when Rook arrived, flushed, almost ten minutes late. She was too vulnerable from the last twenty-four hours to mask her feelings when she saw her brother pacing worriedly in her office. Rook ignored the looks from the secretarial pool.

“Noah?”

“Rook. Where have you been?” he raked his fingers through his hair.

She quietly shut the door so their conversation couldn’t be overheard. “I was over at the hospital most of the night with Jim Barton. Why, what’s wrong?”

Relief crossed his face. “I heard through the grapevine that you damn near had to crash land on that SAR case, and I tried to call you. God, I must have phoned you twenty times. And then I borrowed a friend’s car and drove over to your apartment, and you weren’t there.” He grimaced. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know what SAR cases do to an inexperienced person—especially pilots. We don’t get as many shock and trauma situations as you do, usually.” He stared at Rook, noticing her pallor. “You all right?”

Rook had to talk to someone. “Yes…no…oh, hell, I don’t know, Noah. So much has happened….”

He nodded. ‘Tell me about it.”

She hesitated. “Noah, I’m suppose to be working—”

“What does the SAR manual say about the importance of the victim talking about his tragedy or trauma? Now, talk.”

Miffed, Rook sat down. “I’m hardly a victim in this case.”

“Like hell you’re not. Traumatic incidents and SAR cases can be bloody, messy situations, Rook. No one can ever adequately prepare you for the emotional shocks you’re going to take out there. After you do it for a year or so, you get some distance and objectivity on it. But until then, you’re vulnerable, and you’re going to feel every victim’s pain and anguish.” Noah crossed his arms, waiting for Rook’s response.

She barely looked at him, noting the stubborn jut of his chin. “Christ, I’m barely awake, I need some coffee. How about you?”

“Yeah, I could use a cup.”

She got up. “Okay, don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

Rook passed Tag Welsh on the way to the thirty-cup coffee maker. If she thought Jim looked like hell, she was wrong. Tag looked worse. She almost stopped to talk to him in the hall, but saw that he was heading toward the captain’s office and decided to leave things be for now. Rubbing her temple where a headache was starting, she wondered if every day was going to be like this: an emotional roller coaster. Noah was right. No one had prepared her for the emotions she was now experiencing about the rescue.

When Tag Welsh entered the captain’s office, he didn’t miss the fact that his log book and files were in front of Stuart. “Sir, permission to speak?” He tried to calm the nervousness he felt deep in his gut.

“Certainly,” Ward murmured, motioning toward a chair. Although he had a prepared speech to give, he let the officer go first. Maybe Tag was going to unload on him, and if he was, that was a positive signal.

Clearing his throat, Tag muttered, “Captain, I’m officially requesting the Ops officer take me off flight duty temporarily.”

Hiding his surprise, Ward said, “Go on.”

“Well, after yesterday’s stunt, I figured it all out.” Tag opened both his hands, studying them darkly. “My wife, Paula…well, my mind’s on her every minute. I screwed up yesterday on a SAR case because I wasn’t thinking straight. I hadn’t slept well the night before, so I wasn’t making rational decisions.” He grimaced and looked over at Stuart. “I almost killed myself and three other people because I can’t keep my mind or emotions off my wife’s illness.”

Ward nodded sympathetically. “You’re a credit to yourself, Tag, and to all of us, for admitting that. I’m in agreement that taking you off flight duty for now is beneficial. I’d like you to talk to the chaplain. He can help support you through this difficult period.” He gave Tag a slight smile and pushed a couple of papers toward him. “However, I’m not about to lose your talents as engineering officer. Do you think you can apply yourself one hundred percent to making sure those birds are properly maintained?”

Tag’s face brightened a bit. He’d expected Stuart to throw the book at him. Instead, the captain was trying to be humane and fair. Gratefully, he said, “Yes, sir.”

“As you already know, Chief Jarvis has been suspended from his duties, and that places a bigger responsibility on you. The new chief is going to need more help and direction for a while until he gets used to all his duties.”

“I’m prepared to deal with it, Captain.”

“Is there anyone over there who can help with some of the peripheral duties?”

Relieved that he wasn’t going to get a captain’s mast, Tag broke into a smile. “Well, sir, Annie Locke, as you know, just made E-7. She’s ready for more responsibility. What you may not know, sir, is that she’s been going to night school to get a degree in electrical engineering. She’s just a semester short of her degree, and she has a 3.5 average.” Seeing that Stuart was pleased with that news, Tag continued, presenting an idea he’d been harboring for a long time. “I’d like to put Annie in charge of quality assurance in helo maintenance, Captain.”

Ward’s brows moved up a notch. “That’s an excellent idea.”

“Yes, sir. Believe me, Annie’s got everything it takes to be an engineer herself. She’s young, bright and responsible. As a matter of fact, when things started going sour over there with Chief Jarvis, and I couldn’t get help from above, I had Annie helping me with helo inspections.” He waited to hear Stuart’s reaction. When he got none, he went on. “She’s stood more than her fair share of duty, and I’d like to reward her for her efforts—sir….”

“She’d still have her flight duties,” Ward pointed out, delighted with the idea. He was impressed with Locke’s personal initiative. And if he didn’t miss his guess, she’d be able to correct any errors of omission Welsh made. Ward would have a talk with Annie soon.

“Oh, yes, sir!”

“And she wouldn’t be relegated to a yeoman for you?”

“No, sir. I want her out there doing QA, quality assurance. I’ll let Chief Jarvis handle the paperwork.”

“Excellent idea, Tag. I like it. You rearrange your department as you see fit.” He saw Tag’s face relax for the first time. Ward gentled his voice. “Look, the next six months are going to be hard on you. I’d consider it an honor if you wanted to bend my ear from time to time when you need to talk to someone.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m in touch with a hospice group here in Port Angeles, and they’re helping Paula and me through this. I think things are going to be okay—well, as okay as they can be, under the circumstances.”

Ward smiled. “You’ve got a lot of common sense, Tag, and I applaud that. Despite some grave personal problems, you’re wise enough not to jeopardize other people’s lives. Just remember, I’m here if you need to talk.” The pilot looked relieved with the mild reprimand.

Standing, Tag went over to the desk, offering his hand. “Thanks, Captain.”

Leaving the office, Tag felt a hundred pounds slide off his shoulders. He knew his decision would put an extra burden on the already depleted pilot roster, but most of them would understand.

“Hey, Annie…” Seth Davis called, motioning her over to the helo he was working on.

Annie, who had just come on duty, ambled across the hangar to Seth. “Morning. What’s up?”

He gestured for her to climb up on the ladder and join him. When she did he said, “This isn’t for everyone’s ears, that’s why I called you over.”

“Yeah? What’s going on? This must be big, or you wouldn’t be acting so secretive.” Her eyes lit up with amusement.

Taking a small pair of pliers, Seth bent down and gently put one of several lock nuts back into place on the main rotor head. “I just heard Chief Jarvis hit the roof over in his office. I happened to be grabbing a cup of coffee in there when Jody came over with a new set of orders for the Chief.”

Annie’s eyes widened slightly. “Yeah? Well, what happened? Tell me!”

“Get this. Mr. Welsh has been grounded.”

“Oh, no….”

“Not only that, but the chief has been reduced to shuffling maintenance and service reports.” Seth chuckled and looked over his shoulder toward her. “And you’re going to be taking over quality assurance. You’ll be assisting Mr. Welsh in all inspections.”

“You’re jiving me, Seth.”

“Would I lie to you?”

Annie eyed him speculatively. “Are you sure? You know how Jody gossips.”

“Hey, I was in the Chief’s office when he read the orders. He about tore a new hole in the overhead, let me tell you. You know how he gets when he’s pissed.”

“Yeah, the original screamer, “she muttered, frowning. Annie allowed the implications to sink in for several minutes before speaking again. “Seth, they probably grounded Mr. Welsh because he’s so distraught over his wife’s illness.”

“That’s what I think. I mean, a man can only stand so much. I don’t think I’d be able to work if Donna was dying in front of me, day by day. I don’t know how he’s held it together this long.”

“I don’t know, either,” Annie admitted, her voice filled with emotion. “He’s such a fine guy, Seth. He’s always treated us fairly.”

“Not to mention being the best pilot we’ve got.”

“Well, one of the best. Mr. Logan’s no wimp at the controls, either.”

Seth grinned, his teeth white against his sweaty ebony skin. “Yeah, I’ll give him that.”

“God,” Annie whispered, realizing the full implications of the information he’d given her. “This is an awful big step up for me, if it’s true. I mean, the responsibility.”

“You wanted to apply to Officer’s Candidate School after you got your degree. Getting to help Mr. Welsh isn’t going to hurt your chances, Annie.”

“No, I guess not.” She started to climb down off the ladder.

“Hey!” he called.

She looked up at Seth, midway down the ladder. “Yeah?”

“Watch your rear, gal.”

“Why?”

“You know who’s going to be gunning for you from now on—Jarvis.” He waggled his finger toward her. “Watch him—close. Word’s out he’s got an appointment with the skipper at eleven. I saw him taking a nip from that bottle he hides in the file drawer earlier.”

Annie snorted and climbed down off the ladder. “He’ll probably hit the bottle in the pilot locker room, too, before he goes over.”

“That new skipper’s stalking him. The chief’s number’s up.”

“It’s about time, Seth.”

“Amen, sister, amen.”

Chappie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he mounted the stairs. This was it. The CO had kept those damn files for over a week now. Sweat trickled down his armpit; he absently scratched it through the jacket he wore. What was the captain going to say? How could he get out of the situation? Why did Stuart have it in for him? Any other CO would protect a chief’s rating and importance when he had so little time left before retirement.

Waiting in nervous anticipation in the outer office, Chappie kept rubbing the palms of his hands against each other. This was just another ploy to get him to sweat some more. He knew officers and the head games they liked to play on the lowly enlisted personnel.

“He’ll see you now, Chief Jarvis,” June said.

Getting up briskly, Chappie nodded in her direction. He mentally girded himself, pretending that he was going into battle and that Stuart was his ultimate foe.

“Sit down, Chief,” Ward invited. His quick perusal told him that Jarvis was on edge. “Coffee?”

Surprised by the change in Stuart’s tactics, Chappie’s mouth dropped open. He quickly snapped it shut. “No, sir. Thank you, anyway.”

Ward smiled and got up, pouring himself a cup. He twisted a look over his shoulder. “Sure?”

“Well, maybe half a cup, sir.”

Ward poured a second mug and took it over to the chief. He went behind the desk and sat down. A minute of silence had the effect he wanted on Jarvis: the chief relaxed slightly. Sipping the coffee and appearing totally at ease, Ward pointed absently at the records from Maintenance Control. “I’ve had the opportunity to look at these things, Chief, and I’d like your explanation on the points we covered last week.” Ward wanted to give Jarvis every opportunity to admit that he’d played favorites and wanted to clean up his act. If he’d do that, then Ward knew the man was intrinsically honorable and had a good level of self-respect. Those were qualities he looked for in leaders, whether officers or enlisted.

Chappie launched into his rehearsed speech, basically reiterating what he’d told the captain last week. He emphasized the sick leave, the unexpected emergency leave and other traceable sources. The expression on Stuart’s face didn’t alter when he dropped into a wheedling tone.

“I don’t like pointing fingers, sir, but the last CO really put us under the gun.”

“I realize that, Chief, and I’m taking that into consideration, up to a point.”

Chappie leaned back, aware of the warning in Stuart’s tone on the last sentence. It was a veiled threat to come clean—or else. He fidgeted with the coffee, gulping some of it down. “Sir, I haven’t been well myself, of late.”

“Oh? For how long, Chief?”

Now Stuart’s voice was silken and Chappie hesitated, unsure whether the captain was going along with his ploy or not. Damn, he was the toughest CO he’d ever had to try and read. “Well…uh, a year ago, sir.”

“What’s the problem, Chief?”

“Bouts of dizziness sometimes. Oh, nothing to worry about—”

“Have you seen a doctor about this?”

He shook his head, gripping the mug hard between his weathered fingers. “No, sir. I just think the combination of the old CO and the long hours I’ve been putting in have caught up with me.”

Ward gazed at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Chief, I think part of the problem might be tied in to these records and possibly related to your health situation. What do you think?” Come on, man, admit you have a drinking problem. Ward had already been tipped off by another flight mech that Jarvis kept a pint of vodka in the locker room over in the hangar.

With a shake of his head, Chappie muttered, “Not at all, sir. I always try to do my duty. My job comes first.”

With a sigh, Ward pulled out a sheet from Jarvis’s personnel file. “Chief, I don’t want to play games with you. You were put on report for an alcohol incident at your last duty station.”