beginning to gain her momentum. “Off the record, Commander, I think you’re a real jerk.”
When she finished, Catherine was overwhelmed with a feeling of release. She started to tremble, but she wasn’t sure if the shaking could be attributed to the fact she’d pushed herself physically to the point of collapse or that she’d stood on a military compound and shouted insults at her executive officer at the top of her lungs.
His look was impossible to read. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was decidedly uncomfortable.
“Is that a fact?” he demanded.
“Yes.” Her voice wobbled with uncertainty, sounding as though it were coming from the bottom of a well. She drew in a deep breath, knowing she’d stepped over the boundaries of what should and shouldn’t be said to a superior officer. The blood that seemed to have been pounding in her ears like ringing church bells suddenly went silent.
With her hands knotted into tight fists at her sides, she braced herself for the backlash. If she thought to clear the air, she was sadly mistaken. If she’d accomplished anything it was to sabotage her own career.
Royce didn’t say anything for several moments, but the nerve in his jaw continued twitching. Then he nodded as though they’d casually been discussing the weather, turned and resumed running. Catherine was left standing alone to stare after him.
Catherine spent an uncomfortable night, tossing and turning and finally talking over her troubles with Sambo. To her way of thinking, Royce would either ignore her outburst or see to it that she was transferred to a Third World country. However he reacted, she would be getting exactly what she deserved. No one spoke to their XO the way she had. No one.
For hours she lay awake analyzing what had happened. After several soul-seeking sessions, she still didn’t know what had caused her to get loose enough to say the things she did.
The following morning, Royce was already at his desk, behind closed doors when she arrived. She glanced cautiously toward his office. If there was a merciful God, then Commander Nyland would be willing to forget and forgive her outburst from the day before. She would apologize, grovel if need be, but leaving matters as they were was clearly unacceptable.
“Morning,” she said gingerly to Elaine Perkins. “How’s the great white hunter today?” she asked, hoping her secretary had had a chance to judge Royce’s mood.
“Same as usual,” Elaine told her, sipping coffee from a thick ceramic mug. Her voice drawled with a thick southern accent. “He asked me to send you into his office when you arrived.”
Catherine felt the starch go out of her knees. “He asked to see me?”
“You heard me right. What are you looking so worried about? You haven’t done anything, have you?”
“Nothing,” Catherine whispered in reply. Nothing except stick her head in a noose and sling the other end of the rope over the highest branch in the tree.
Squaring her shoulders in her best military form, she walked across the office and knocked politely on the commander’s door. When she was ordered to enter the room, she did so with her eyes focused straight ahead.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Sir.”
“Relax, Catherine.” He leaned back in his chair, his chin resting on folded hands as though he were still weighing his decision.
Relax, he’d told her to relax, only Catherine hadn’t figured out how she was supposed to be at ease when her career was on the line. She hadn’t joined the Navy like so many other women with her head in the clouds, seeking adventure, travel and a paid education. She knew from the beginning about the rigorous routine, the political infighting and the fact she’d be dealing with world-class chauvinists.
Nevertheless she loved being part of the Navy. She’d worked hard, and her efforts had been rewarded. Now this.
“Since our recent discussion I’ve been having second thoughts,” Royce said flatly.
Catherine swallowed against the heaviness in her throat. She doubted if she could have spoken if she tried.
“From everything I’ve read about you, you have an excellent record.” He leaned forward and closed her file. “Effective immediately, I’m removing you as the substitute coordinator of the physical fitness program, and assigning Lieutenant Johnson the duty.”
Catherine was sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her eyes, which had been trained on the opposite wall, skirted to his. A breathless moment passed before she could speak, “You’re removing me from the physical fitness program?” She couldn’t have been more surprised had he announced he was working for the KGB.
“That’s what I just said.”
Catherine blinked, not knowing what to say. “Thank you, sir,” she finally managed.
“That will be all,” he said, dismissing her.
She hesitated. She’d wanted to apologize for her outburst from the day before, but one look told her Royce wasn’t interested in listening to her list her excuses.
As it was, her knees were knocking so badly that she walked over to her desk, slumped into the chair and held on to the edge as though it were a lifeline.
Catherine didn’t see Royce for the remainder of the day, for which she was grateful. It gave her time to sort through her emotions, which were as confused and tangled as thin gold chains. She didn’t know what to make of the executive commander. Every time she had him figured out, he’d do something more to confuse her. Complicating the matter even further were her muddled feelings toward him. He was by far the most virile man she’d ever met. She couldn’t be in the same room with him and not experience that magnetism. Yet, she found herself intensely disliking him.
An early October drizzle moistened the air when Catherine walked out to the parking lot later that same afternoon. Rain, rain and more rain.
It was already dark, and her calf muscles were so sore she’d decided to skip running at the track. At least that was the excuse she’d given herself. How much truth there was to her rationale was something she’d prefer not to question.
Her GEO Storm was parked in the far end of the lot, and Catherine walked briskly toward it, hunching her shoulders against the chilly air. She opened her door, gratefully climbed inside and turned the ignition. Nothing. She tried again with the same results. The battery was completely dead.
With her hands braced against the steering wheel, Catherine groaned. She knew as much about the internal workings of a car as she did about performing brain surgery. Her automobile was only a few months old; surely there wasn’t anything wrong with the engine.
Climbing out, she decided to check under the hood. How much good that would do was highly debatable, especially in the dark. It took her several minutes to find the clasp that would release the lock. In the dim light from the street lamp, she couldn’t see much of anything.
The only thing she could think to do was call a towing service. She was walking back to her building when a low black sports car rolled past her, then circled around.
“Problems?” It was Royce Nyland.
Catherine
