this year, you know.”
“Good girl.” The two of them had suffered through more than one go-round with fractions.
Kelly turned her big baby blues full force on him. “What about the jacket, Dad?”
Royce could feel himself giving in. This wasn’t good. He should be a pillar of strength, a wall of granite. He’d already told her once the subject was closed. The jacket she had now was good enough. He remembered when they’d bought it last year. Royce had been appalled at the outrageous shade of putrid green, but Kelly had assured him it was perfect and she would wear it two or three years.
“Dad?” she asked ever so sweetly, the way she always did when she sensed he was weakening.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she cried, rushing across the room and hugging his waist. “You’re the greatest.”
An odd sense of self-consciousness attacked Catherine when she went down to the track the following evening. As she suspected, Royce was there ahead of her, running laps, as were several other men.
Royce hadn’t said more than a handful of words to her all day, which wasn’t unusual. He was as polite and as cool as always. When he came into the office that morning, he’d glanced her way, and Catherine could have sworn he was looking straight through her. His hard blue eyes had passed over her without so much as a flicker of friendliness. If she were to take the time to analyze his look, she suspected it had been one of cool indifference. It wasn’t that Catherine expected him to throw his arms around her and greet her like a long lost friend. On second thought, maybe that was the problem.
They’d shared something on that running track, a camaraderie, an understanding and appreciation for each other. Catherine didn’t expect warm embraces, but she hadn’t expected him to regard her so impersonally. Apparently she’d read more into their talk than he intended.
That was her first mistake, and Catherine feared she was ready to commit mistake number two.
Squaring her shoulders, she traipsed down the hillside to the running track. She was later this evening than she had been the night before. No thanks to Commander Nyland. For the past two hours she’d been reviewing files and charting progress as the substitute coordinator for the physical fitness program. Her eyes hurt, her shoulders ached and she was in no mood to lock horns with the executive officer, unless, of course, he started something first.
Catherine completed her warming-up exercises and joined the others circling the quarter-mile track. She needed to unwind, vent the frustration she felt over being assigned this extra duty, which was an imposition she didn’t need. It seemed that the commander had seen fit to delegate CDO duty that Friday night to someone else. Lucky for that someone.
Her first lap was relaxed. Catherine liked to ease herself into running, starting off slow and gradually gain her momentum, peaking at about the second mile and finishing off the third in a relaxed stride.
Royce passed her easily on the first go-round. Catherine fully expected that he would. Once again she was impressed with the power and strength she felt as he shot past her. His skin was tan and his muscles bronzed. It was as if he were a living, moving work of art, perfect, strong and male. Her heart raced much faster than it should. A rush of sensation so powerful it nearly knocked her off her feet took her by surprise. On the heels of that emotion came another, one more potent than the first. Anger. He zoomed past her again and it was all she could do to hold herself back from charging ahead.
On the third lap she couldn’t help herself, and she let loose, running as though she were in the Olympic time trial and this was her one and only chance to make the team.
The sense of satisfaction she gained leaping past Royce was enough to make her forget how hard she was pushing herself to maintain this stride.
The feeling of triumph was short-lived, as she knew it would be. Royce stepped up his pace and quickly charged around her. Then he slowed down and waited for her steps to join his.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted, cordially enough.
“Commander.” She wasn’t in any mood to wish him a pleasant anything. Once again he’d managed to irritate her. No man had evoked such heated feelings from her, whether they be reasonable or unreasonable. It was all because of Royce Nyland that she’d been the one poring over a carload of files late into the afternoon.
Royce increased his stride, and Catherine struggled to keep even with him. She had the feeling that he could have left her to eat his dust at anytime, and was simply toying with her the way a cat enjoys playing with a cornered mouse. None of that seemed to matter as she pushed herself harder than ever.
After a couple of laps, Catherine sensed his amusement. No doubt she and her damnable pride were a keen source of entertainment to the obstinate executive officer.
Somehow Catherine managed to keep up with Royce for three complete laps, but she knew she couldn’t continue the killing pace any longer. It was either drop out now or collapse. Catherine chose the former.
When she pulled back, slowed her pace to a fast walk, Royce raced ahead, then he surprised her by turning around and coming back. He kept his arms and feet in motion as he matched her speed.
“You all right?”
“Just ducky.” She barely managed to breathe evenly, and prayed a sufficient amount of sarcasm leaked through to convey her mood.
A crooked smile slanted his mouth, his look cool and mocking. “Do you have a problem, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Off the record?” she asked, without hesitating. A month of frustration could no longer be contained, and she was bursting to let him know exactly what she thought of him.
“By all means.”
Catherine might be digging herself in deeper than she dare, but her patience was shot. “Is there something about me that troubles you, Commander?” She didn’t give him time to respond, but rushed ahead, “Because something’s rotten in Denmark, and frankly, it isn’t my problem…. It’s yours.”
“I don’t treat you any differently than anyone else,” Royce inserted smoothly.
“Like hell you don’t,” she shot back heatedly. Thankfully the others had left the track, which might or might not be a blessing.
“I don’t see you assigning anyone else to stand duty four weeks straight. For some unknown reason you’ve chosen to destroy my weekends. I’ve spent eleven years in this man’s Navy and I’ve never stood duty more than once a month. Until you were assigned my XO. Apparently you don’t like me, Commander, and I demand to know why.”
A nerve twitched in his lean, hard jaw. “On the contrary, I find your dedication to duty to be highly commendable.”
Catherine didn’t actually expect him to admit his dislike of her, but she wasn’t willing to listen to his military rhetoric, either. “I suppose my dedication to duty is what made you decide to bless me with this plush job of coordinating the physical fitness program? Was that supposed to be a bonus for all the extra hours I put in on the Miller case? If so, find another way to thank me, would you?” She was trying to talk and draw in deep breaths at the same time and doubted that Royce could make out more than a few words.
Royce
