style="font-size:15px;"> His desire to touch her was overwhelming. A simple caress to her soft cheek, or a stroke of that silky, shiny hair—that’s all he wanted. It was as if he needed a physical confirmation that she was real and not some mirage that would once again vanish in the blink of an eye.
This irrational need to touch her simply renewed his irritation with her once again. He opened the car door and stepped out, then opened the back door to retrieve his duffel bag. “Why don’t you come by for me tomorrow at 0500 hours. I can have my men in the air by dawn.”
“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He slammed the door and jumped back as she pulled away, roaring off as if all the demons from hell were chasing her. He watched until her car was out of sight, then turned and headed into the apartment building.
Emotions rolled inside him, unsettling emotions about Joanna. He’d spent three months thinking about her, thinking about that night they’d shared. Of all the women he’d been with, the image of her had remained in his head longer than any other.
Was it because she was the only one who had ever walked away from him? Was it because in his past relationships, long and short, he had been the one who had always walked away?
He nodded to the security man on duty, then headed for the elevator that would take him to the top floor apartment.
As soon as the elevator began moving upward, he felt an old familiar constriction tightening his chest.
When the elevator stopped, he stepped out and dug in his pocket for the key to the door just ahead. He opened the door and stepped onto the plush, thick beige carpeting. The air was comfortably cool and smelled faintly of lemon oil and fresh flowers.
His mother must have called in the cleaning crew to make sure the place was ready for his arrival, despite the fact that he’d told her he’d probably be staying at the base.
He hated staying here, much preferred the simple, impersonal space at the military base. This luxurious, four-bedroom apartment, which spanned the entire top floor of the building, was a testimony that his fat-cat father had sold out long ago and chosen money over honor.
Kyle dropped his duffel bag on the floor next to the overstuffed sofa, then walked over to the marble bar that occupied a corner of the living room.
What he wanted was a drink—a smooth shot of good whiskey to take the edge off the tremendous shock of seeing Marie…Joanna…again. Instead, he reached for a can of fruit juice, knowing he needed to be clearheaded early in the morning.
He popped the lid, took a swallow, then sank down on the sofa. Joanna’s drink of choice had been a Tom Collins with a lime twist, and when he’d kissed her for the first time, he’d tasted not only the intense heat of her mouth, but a touch of gin and a tang of lime as well.
Funny, now that he thought about the conversation they’d shared that night, he realized it had been pretty superficial.
They hadn’t talked about their jobs or their families, they’d merely indulged in a lighthearted bantering that had been both amusing and stimulating. Their conversation had been filled with innuendos, a verbal foreplay he had found exciting.
But beneath the superficiality, he’d sensed something in her that had touched something inside him…a wistfulness, a yearning…something he couldn’t quite define and couldn’t quite forget. All he knew was that he had been incredibly drawn to her and had believed she’d felt the same way about him.
In the months since that night, she had grown to epic proportions in his mind. Was she simply a player? A woman who took her pleasure with men, then fled so there would be no messy emotions, no unnecessary entanglements?
After the initial shock of seeing him today, she’d seemed fairly cool and calm. Her desire that he forget their night together hit a sour note with him.
Had she been totally unaffected by what they had shared? Could she so easily forget how sweetly their bodies had come together? Could she dismiss without pause the magic they’d spun when dancing together, laughing together, loving together? He frowned with annoyance. It would seem so.
He finished his juice and threw out the can, then picked up his duffel bag and headed into the bedroom he called his own when staying at the apartment. The room, like the rest of the place, was large and luxurious. Decorated in deep blues and pale silver, it boasted big, masculine furniture. Photos of Kyle in uniform hung on the walls.
It took him only minutes to hang his clothes in the closet and set his toiletries on the counter in the adjoining bathroom. Then he wandered back into the living room, his head still consumed with thoughts of Joanna Marie Morgan.
She had made it quite clear that she had no intention of picking up where they’d left off, that she just wanted to forget that single night they had shared together.
But he couldn’t do that. He had to have some answers. He needed to have some closure where she was concerned. He wanted to know why she had left him that morning after they had made love so passionately, then fallen asleep in one another’s arms.
More than answers, he wanted one more night with her. What he wasn’t sure of was if he wanted one more night of the pleasure of making love to her, or if he simply wanted an opportunity to be the one to walk away.
At precisely 0500 hours the next morning, Joanna knocked on the Ramsey apartment door. The security officer on duty had told her to go on up, that Lieutenant Commander Ramsey was waiting for her. For the past month she’d been experiencing morning nausea, but none quite as intense as what she felt at the moment.
Nerves, she told herself. She’d been a nervous wreck from the moment she’d seen him again. The one time in her life she’d made a mistake and done something irrational, spontaneous and stupid, fate had to be a perverse jokester and throw the mistake right back in her face.
Her “mistake” opened the door, looking as breathtakingly handsome and male as ever. “Ah, Joanna, right on time.” He stepped aside and gestured her in.
She swept past him, knowing he was freshly showered from the scent of soap. He was dressed not in his uniform, but casually, in tight jeans and a pale blue, short-sleeved dress shirt that emphasized taut biceps. It was similar to what he’d been wearing on the night they had first met.
He closed the door behind her and she found herself in a huge, airy living room. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
“No, thanks,” she replied, the very thought making her stomach twist and buck. Lately it was rare that she drank coffee or ate anything besides crackers before noon. Her morning sickness made it virtually impossible to keep much of anything down.
“Then have a seat. I’ll be ready to head out in just a minute.” He disappeared down a hallway and into what she assumed was one of the bedrooms.
Joanna didn’t sit, but rather wandered around the room. At least he’d been impersonal and businesslike so far, she thought as she moved to a wall of windows and peered out.
It was still too dark outside to be able to see what kind of view the windows would provide. In her mind, she didn’t see the darkness of predawn, but rather a vivid picture of how Kyle had looked the morning she’d sneaked out of the hotel room.
He’d been gloriously
