word was soft and pleading.
Catherine couldn’t refuse him, and when she sat down, he moved one seat over, sitting next to her. Almost immediately the theater darkened and music filled the room. Royce stretched out his long legs, and his thigh inadvertently brushed hers. Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at the sudden rush of sensation that raced up and down her limb. Royce, too, gave a small gasp. The firm pressure of his leg felt muscular and hard. It was funny how easy it was for her to forget how good a man can feel. Catherine glanced up to find Royce openly studying her. His eyes were bright with a heat that warmed her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. With a determined effort she dragged her gaze away from his.
Royce shifted his weight and with a good deal of reluctance moved his leg. They both breathed a little easier. This was difficult enough without adding more temptation, more fuel to the fire.
Catherine doubted that either one of them was able to follow the plot of the movie. If anyone had asked her, Catherine wouldn’t have been able to discuss a single detail. Her concentration was centered on the man sitting next to her.
At some point, Royce thrust a bucket of popcorn between them. In an effort to fix her attention on the screen, Catherine reached for a handful of the kernels and ate them one by one. About the third or fourth dip into the bucket, Catherine’s hand inadvertently bumped Royce’s. She quickly withdrew her fingers, only Royce wouldn’t allow it. He reached out and grasped her hand, then slowly, as if damning himself for his weakness, laced his fingers one by one with hers. His grip was tight, his nails cutting into her smooth flesh. It was as though he never intended on letting her go. The bucket of popcorn disappeared, and still Royce held her hand.
There was no way Catherine could explain the tumult of emotion that overtook her at the gesture. A host of unexplainable sensations assailed her, hidden, unrecognized emotions were so prominent that her head started to spin. If he was kissing her or touching her breasts or making love to her, Catherine could have understood, could have accepted her reaction.
But all he was dong was holding her hand.
She’d never felt more vulnerable or more exposed. She was risking everything that was important to her. Royce was taking a chance with his career, and for what?
The question was a harsh one, and the answer…the answer was even harsher. She knew next to nothing about Royce. He’d been married, his wife had died and there was a child. He was Navy, a man born to lead others. He was respected. Admired. But they’d never sat down and talked about their lives, never shared anything beyond the basic everyday-working-together kind of conversation. That they should experience this powerful pull toward each other, this forceful attraction, was a quirk of nature. There was no rhyme. No reason. Yet it would have taken an act of congress to move Catherine out of that movie theater.
The film ended. Catherine was hardly aware of the fact until he released her hand. She wanted to protest, longing to maintain the contact, as innocent as it was, until the last possible moment.
“Catherine,” he whispered, leaning close. “Go now.”
“But…”
“For the love of God, don’t argue with me. Just leave.”
Something in his voice, a warning, a threat, Catherine didn’t know which, prompted her to move quickly. “I’ll see you Monday,” she said, standing.
But she’d be thinking about him every minute in between.
“Is there something going on between you and Commander Nyland?” Elaine Perkins asked Monday morning when Catherine arrived for work.
Her heart sank to her knees before quickly rebounding. “What makes you ask that?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain light and breezy.
“He wants to see you first thing. Again.”
“He wants to see me first thing?” Catherine was beginning to sound like an echo.
“And when the almighty commander speaks, we obey,” Elaine said as a means of reminding them both. “All I want to know is what you’ve done this time?”
“What makes you think I did anything?” Catherine asked as she hung up her coat.
“Because he looks like he’s in a mood to wrestle crocodiles. That man is as mean as a shark with a toothache, and if I were you, I wouldn’t tangle with him.”
“Don’t worry.” Squaring her shoulders, she approached Royce’s office and knocked politely.
“Come in.” His frown deepened when he saw her. Perkins was right; Royce didn’t look any too cheerful. The iceman had returned. Gone was the indulgent father, replaced by the man so ingrained in military procedure Catherine was convinced she had been imagining someone else on Saturday.
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