Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

  “Catherine…” He didn’t sound nearly so insistent as before. “I don’t…we need to talk before we do anything…first.”

  “If that’s what you really want,” she whispered, taking his earlobe between her teeth and biting lightly. “Touch me,” she pleaded softly. “Oh, Royce…I need you so much.”

  His hold on her wrist slackened. “Catherine, I don’t think it would be a good idea—”

  “I do…” She was kneeling over him, her thighs spread wide, anticipating the contact, knowing it would play havoc with them both. This was what she wanted, what she needed.

  Royce hesitated; his face was hard, his eyes closed, blocking her out, because that was the only way he had of resisting her. The power she felt was strong enough to intoxicate her.

  Neither moved. Neither breathed. The pleasure was too intense for either. There was no beginning. No end. The pleasure, once it started, only grew better. The joy burst forth in Catherine’s heart until it filled every ounce, every pore of her being.

  Joy. Pleasure. The tenderness so sweet it was violent. The beauty of their lovemaking transcending anything she had ever experienced.

  When they’d finished, Royce cradled her in his arms. Neither spoke. After what seemed like forever, Royce reached for the blankets, covering them both. His arms held her close, nestling her head against his hard chest. He kissed the crown of her head, and whispered that they would talk in the morning.

  * * *

  Morning. Catherine’s eyes slowly drifted open, and she snuggled against Royce’s cozy warmth. He must have sensed that she was awake, because he ran his hand over the top of her head, smoothing her hair.

  “Are you going to argue with me again?” he whispered.

  “That depends on how unreasonable you intend on being,” she said, rolling onto her back and arching her body, yawning. “I’m…sorry about last night.” She was embarrassed now at the brazen way in which she’d come at him. Using their physical need for each other as a weapon to twist his will was not a tactic she’d ever intended to employ. But he’d made her so furious, she hadn’t been thinking properly.

  “I want a child, Royce,” she told him, her voice low and determined.

  “It’s not a problem,” he assured her, “as long as you’re out of the Navy.”

  His stubbornness stunned her. “Why should I be the one to give up my commission?” she asked, in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. Her emotions were pitching around like a small rowboat upon a stormy ocean. The waves of righteousness slapped roughly against the sides. It was all so unfair. She had to make Royce understand that.

  “How about if you give up your commission first?” she offered, hoping he’d see the foolishness of his logic.

  He didn’t answer her right away. “You agreed before we were married. We discussed it and—”

  “We didn’t,” she denied vehemently.

  “…and you chose to stay in the Navy,” Royce finished as though she’d never spoken. “Obviously it wasn’t as clear as I’d thought it was, and that’s unfortunate, but the fact remains…”

  “I’m going to have a child, Royce, and I’m going to be the best mother you ever saw. I’m going to prove to you that I can also be a damn good lieutenant commander as well—”

  “No.” His voice was gruff and angry.

  “Why do I have to be the one to resign?” She wasn’t being flippant this time, but she honestly wanted to know.

  “Because a child deserves a mother.”

  “What about a father?”

  “One of us has to accept the majority of the responsibility.”

  “We can’t share the duty?”

  “No,” he argued, more heatedly this time.

  “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” she demanded. Royce might be a lot of things, but she’d always found him to be fair.

  “Because Sandy—”

  “Now just a minute,” Catherine said, struggling into a sitting position. She narrowed her eyes as she stared down on him. “Get this straight right now, Royce Nyland. I refuse to be compared with your first wife. I’m not Sandy, and I won’t have you holding me up to her.” She climbed off the bed and stalked across the room, heading for the bathroom to take a long hot shower and cool off her indignation. She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “There’s something you should know.” She didn’t dare look at him. “I woke up…in the middle of the night last night…” She wasn’t proud of this and refused to turn around and look at him as she admitted what she’d done.

  “And what?” Royce demanded.

  “I…I flushed my birth control pills down the toilet.”

  She heard his muffled curse as she stepped inside the bathroom.

  The shower was running, and Catherine was standing under the stinging spray when the door was thrust open and Royce stepped inside.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” He didn’t need to explain what he was asking about.

  “Because.” Catherine was well aware her answer didn’t make sense.

  “It won’t make a whole lot of difference. All I have to do is make a trip to the drugstore.”

  “Fine. Do it.” She reached for the bar of soap and lathered the washcloth. “I’m tired of having everything rest on my shoulders. It’s time for someone else to take responsibility.”

  Royce frowned at that. The water pelted down around him, splashing against the sides of the cubicle. “I’m not going to argue with you. These days are too precious to spend fighting. Even if we were to agree about you getting pregnant, it’s too soon. Let’s wait a year and talk about it then. A lot could change in that time. There’s no need for either of us to get caught up in our disagreements when there’s so much we do agree on.”

  He shouldn’t make this much sense. It should be black-and-white. Cut-and-dried.

  His hand was under her chin. “I love you, Catherine, I’d much rather be making love to you than standing here debating a subject I assumed was closed.” He leaned forward and gently brushed moist lips over hers.

  Heaven help her, but she couldn’t resist him. Not like this. She stood on her tiptoes and looped her arms around his neck, easing her softness against his hard, lean strength. Steam fogged the windows and mirrors, but Catherine was convinced it had nothing to do with the hot spray of water and everything to do with the way Royce was kissing her.

  As it happened, the water turned cold a whole lot sooner than either of them did.

  * * *

  Catherine was frying bacon for Kelly’s breakfast when Royce came bolting down the stairs. He grabbed his jacket and was heading toward the front door when Kelly stopped him.

  “Where’re you going, Dad?”

  He hesitated and cast a dark frown in Catherine’s direction. “Shopping.”

  “It’s too early in the morning for anything to be open,” Kelly informed him with perfect logic.

  “A drugstore will be,” he muttered, and moved out the front door, slamming it behind him.

  Smiling contentedly to herself, Catherine continued to fry the bacon.

  * * *

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Catherine told herself a month later. A woman didn’t flush her birth control pills down the toilet one minute and, bingo, turn up pregnant the next. This was one for the record books. Something like this was supposed to take weeks. Months.

  Not seconds.

  As far as Catherine could figure it out, she was more fertile than the Napa Valley.

  She didn’t know what she was going to tell Royce. Or when. Not soon, she decided. This pregnancy was something that would demand diplomacy and tact. Good grief, only a handful of people in Bangor even knew she was married.

  If only she weren’t so thrilled about it. So excited. Of course being separated the way they were, she might even be able to have the baby without Royce knowing.

  But that was ridiculous. He was the father. He deserved to know. Kelly deserved to know.

  She waited all day for his
phone call, deciding to play it by ear. At precisely six, her time, just after she’d poured herself a cup of coffee, the phone rang.

  She grabbed it off the hook, holding the receiver tight against her ear. She reminded herself that she was an accomplished attorney who knew her way around the courtroom. She could argue with the best of them. Her arguments had swayed more than one judge. All she needed to do was remain collected and poised. This child, although unexpected, was a welcome gift. Once Royce saw things from her point of view, he’d change his mind. He didn’t have any choice. The deed was done.

  “Catherine?”

  “Hi,” she answered cheerfully. “How are you? How’s Kelly? Not much happening around here except that the strip turned blue.” Catherine couldn’t believe she’d blurted it out like that, although it was unlikely that Royce knew she was referring to the home pregnancy kit she’d picked up at the pharmacy.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just a bit of local humor. Are you missing me?”

  “You know I am.” His words were low and seductive.

  They talked for a half hour, the longest thirty minutes of Catherine’s life. The minute they were finished, she rushed into the bathroom and hung her head over the toilet. She was never going to be able to pull this off. Royce would guess by the end of the week. She didn’t know what would infuriate him more, the fact she hadn’t told him right away or that she was pregnant in the first place.

  Catherine gained two important lessons from her thirty-minute conversation with Royce. First, that she would need to confide in someone, and second, she wasn’t going to be able to drink coffee for the next nine months.

  * * *

  “Hi, Mom,” Catherine greeted.

  “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

  “How did you know anything was?”

  “You mean other than the fact you’re phoning and it’s past midnight? Don’t worry, I wasn’t asleep. Norman went to bed hours ago, but I’m up reading one of Mary Higgins Clark’s mysteries.”

  “Midnight. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

  “You always call late when you’re upset.”

  Catherine didn’t realize that, either. “Say, Mom, what would you say if I told you the strip turned blue?”

  The pause was only slight. “Is this a trick question?”

  “No…I’m dead serious.”

  “A strip turned blue. I don’t know, sweetheart, probably that you should see a doctor.”

  “Right answer,” she said on the tail of a breathy sigh. “Now comes the difficult part. Can you guess why I need a doctor?”

  Again there was a semi-lengthy pause. “I’d say it was because you were pregnant, but I know that’s not the case.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “You mean…Catherine, do you honestly mean to tell me you and Royce are…But you’ve only been married a short while, and he’s in Virginia and you’re in Washington state. Honey, how did it happen?”

  “You want me to explain it to you?” Catherine asked incredulously.

  “You know what I mean.” Catherine could almost see her mother blushing.

  “Christmas,” Catherine whispered.

  “You don’t sound like you’re sure you’re pleased about this.”

  “I’m thrilled, Mom, honest I am.”

  “Are you going to leave the Navy?”

  “No!”

  “But, Catherine, can’t you see how impossible it will be? You and Royce live two thousand miles apart. A child deserves to know his father.”

  “Royce will see the baby.”

  Her mother must have sensed the argument brewing just below the surface of Catherine’s stubborn pride, because she diplomatically changed the subject.

  “I’m going to tell you something I never have before,” Marilyn said softly, gently. “You, my darling daughter, were a surprise.”

  “I was?”

  “Actually, you were more of a shock.”

  Catherine grinned. Her sense of timing never had gotten straightened out, it seemed.

  “Your father and I were in college. Young. Idealistic. Foolish.”

  “Do you mean to tell me you and Dad had to get married?”

  “No, but as best as I can figure you were born nine months and one day after our wedding. I didn’t know how I was going to tell your father. As it turned out, he was delighted. I was crying—the hormones really did a trick on me. I’ll never forget how gentle he was, how pleased. It was as though I were the only woman in the world who’d ever endured a pregnancy.” Her mother paused, and Catherine could hear the slight quaver in her voice.

  “In those days the father wasn’t often allowed in the delivery room. But Andy refused to leave me. For a minute there I thought he and the doctor were going to come to blows.”

  Catherine enjoyed hearing these loving details about her father. Her gaze rested tenderly on the fading color photograph that rested atop her mantel.

  “When you were born, I was afraid he would be disappointed with a daughter. But not Andy. The delivery room nurse placed you in his arms, and he sat beside me and wept for joy.

  “After they wheeled me into the recovery room, I was exhausted and fell asleep. But Andy was too excited to stand still. The nurses told me he dragged everyone from the janitor to the hospital administrator up to the nursery to take a look at you. Not once did he regret that I’d become pregnant so soon.” Her mother paused, and Catherine could hear her voice tremble with soft emotion.

  “I love hearing stories about him,” Catherine admitted, discovering she was close to tears herself, which probably meant this pregnancy was going to play havoc with her emotions.

  “Royce doesn’t know yet, does he?” her mother pried softly.

  “No.”

  “When exactly do you plan to tell him?”

  “Next year when it’s time to figure our income taxes?”

  Her mother’s laughter echoed softly over the long-distance line. “Oh, Catherine, you remind me so much of myself, and so much of your father. Royce is a good man, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about.”

  They spoke for a few minutes more, and then Catherine hung up. Slowly, thoughtfully, she walked over to the fireplace and gently ran her finger along the top of her father’s picture. It was something she did often when she needed to feel close to him. She prayed her mother was right and that Royce would be thrilled. Her gaze rested on her father’s handsome features. A lone tear streaked her face as she regretted once again her inability to remember him.

  * * *

  Royce was weary as he drove down the maple-lined street and pulled into his driveway. He missed Catherine. It had been nearly three months since he’d last seen her, and it could well be another three before he did again. He tried not to think about it.

  They were close, as close as any two married people could be that were separated by the width of an entire country. If anything troubled him it was the fact she was so content with their arrangement. They talked two times a week and wrote nearly every day. Only on rare occasions did Catherine reveal any regrets on their being so far removed from each other.

  Not so with Royce. He wanted his wife with him. If he was being selfish, inconsiderate, then so be it. The nights were lonely. Friday nights were always the worst. Kelly usually spent it with a friend, which left him to fend for himself. He was pleased his daughter had such an active social life; his, however, was wrapped around a woman two thousand miles away.

  He really knew how to pick them, he mused darkly. Career women. First Sandy and now Catherine, both so eager to make a place in their chosen profession…. No, he wasn’t going to dwell on it. He’d done that too much lately. He’d gone into this marriage with his eyes wide open. From the first he’d known how important the Navy was to Catherine. He’d married her still, loving her enough to place a distant second in her life if that was all she was willing to give him.

  His life was good. He had only a few comp
laints. He liked Virginia much better than he ever expected he would. He enjoyed his job, and over the past few months had developed several interests. He wasn’t much into hobbies—at least he hadn’t been until he married Catherine. Now he had to find something to fill the time or go crazy thinking about how much he missed her.

  He just wished there was some way he could get her transferred out to the East Coast. Even if she were stationed in Florida, it would be a whole lot closer than Washington state.

  The lights were on in the house, and Royce was trying to remember if Kelly was going to be home or not. Home, he guessed.

  He opened the front door and removed his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. Someone was cooking in the kitchen. Whatever it was it smelled like heaven. Royce was going to have to say something to Kelly about fixing dinner. She was too young to be attempting it without adult supervision.

  “Kelly?” He paused to sort through the mail.

  “I’m in the kitchen, Dad.” She sounded downright pleased about something. Probably that she’d managed to cook his dinner without burning down the house.

  “What smells so good?”

  “Yankee pot roast, mashed potatoes, steamed baby carrots and fresh-baked apple pie.”

  The mail dropped out of Royce’s hands as he slowly turned around. He was dreaming. He had to be, because it was Catherine’s honey-sweet voice that was talking to him and not Kelly’s. She stood in the kitchen doorway, a towel tucked into the waistband of her jeans, holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

  “Catherine?” He was almost afraid to reach for her for fear she’d vanish into thin air. Either real or imaginary, he had to hold her. Two steps later, and she was in his arms.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm, familiar fragrance of her, intoxicated within seconds. His arms were wrapped around her so tightly that he’d lifted her half off the floor without even realizing it.

  “Are you surprised?” Kelly asked.