Point of Departure Page 12

  Leaning down, he cupped her face in his hands and drowned in her luminous eyes, which were shadowed with sorrow. Breathing out her name, feeling as if he was taking a risk bigger than any navy dog fight, Ty moved still closer and gently touched his lips to hers. She tasted salty, he thought abstractly, and he realized, in some far compartment of his mind that was rapidly spinning out of control, that he was tasting the salt of her spent tears.

  Nothing could have made him more tender than that discovery as he moved his mouth coaxingly across hers, silently asking her to return his searching kiss. He felt Callie breathe in raggedly, her hands moving against his chest, and then her mouth responded. There was such exquisite beauty as her lips molded more surely to his own, and joy—white-hot and blinding—seared through him. Her mouth was soft and firm, giving and taking, against his own. The sweet taste of her as a woman filled him, and Ty groaned, the sound reverberating throughout his tense body.

  The raggedness of Callie’s breathing, moist and featherlike across his cheek, told him that she was equally stunned by the intensity of the kiss. Fighting a desire to become more aggressive, to take and drink more deeply from her, Ty honored his sense of how fragile their kiss was—and what it could mean to their future. And how he wanted a future with Callie, he admitted suddenly as he eased his mouth from hers. Watching her thick lashes slowly open, discovering the hazy blueness of her eyes touched with gold, he smiled tenderly.

  The moment was like a breathtaking rainbow for Ty as he held her warm gaze banked with desire, more than aware of the tremulous smile that touched the corners of her mouth. Taking a deep breath, he moved his hands gently from her face.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” he said thickly, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “You were hurting.”

  The sound of his voice, deep and ragged, moved over Callie like a lover’s hands. At a loss for words, she understood why Ty had kissed her. She had kissed him back, no less in need than he. Heat ebbed and flowed through her, and all she could do was stand and feel his masculine power, feel the steadying touch of his grip on her shoulders. The kiss Ty had given her was intended to heal her—not to take from her, as so many others had been.

  Closing her eyes, she moved her hand tentatively across his chest, feeling his muscles tighten beneath her flowing touch. “I…” She gulped, a flood of need shearing through her. Stunned by her hunger for Ty, Callie lifted her head and met his blazing eyes, which burned with a hunger to match her own. “I never expected it….”

  With a one-cornered smile, Ty said, “I didn’t, either.” Each strand of her black hair was thick and silky beneath his continued caresses. “I’m sorry I made you cry. I feel really bad. I shouldn’t have pushed you the way I did.”

  With a shake of her head, Callie knew she had to move away from Ty or kiss him again. His sheer maleness was overwhelming her spinning senses, and she didn’t dare capitulate, even though she wanted to. “It’s all right,” she rasped, and disengaged herself from his embrace. “It happened a long time ago. I just want to forget it, that’s all.”

  Ty tried to swallow his disappointment as Callie stepped away from him. Her cheeks had flushed bright red, and he knew that what they’d just shared had been utterly spontaneous on both their parts. Still, his spirit soared with the revelation that Callie had kissed him back—so there was hope. He moved farther away to give her the space to feel safe again. “Well, I’m here if you ever need a friend’s shoulder to cry on. Okay?”

  “Okay….” Callie moved around Ty, because if she didn’t, she was going to step forward and throw her arms around his strong neck and broad, capable shoulders. The stormy craving in his gray eyes, touched her as little else could. She felt his longing for her, and it was a wonderful sensation, despite the underlying fear it aroused. Puttering at the counter, trying to control the nervousness she felt, Callie poured herself a cup of coffee. She heard Ty move back to the table and sit down.

  Once, as she rinsed some dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher, she stole a quick glance in his direction. His generous mouth was set, like a dam withholding unspoken feelings. His dark eyebrows were gathered like thunderclouds as he worked doggedly in the silence. Feeling shaky, Callie returned to her kitchen work, relieved that Ty wasn’t going to press the issue of their unexpected kiss.

  Finally, half an hour later, Ty called her over to the table. He showed her the outline of his presentation to the board and asked for her input. Although she was trying to concentrate, Callie found it nearly impossible. The chaos of her emotions combined with Ty’s quiet strength and stability to conspire against her. She sat down, pressing her hands to her brow as she read his neatly printed outline.

  “A psychiatrist?” she murmured in surprise, and looked up at him.

  He smiled a little. “Yes. I called up the San Diego psychiatric association and asked if there was anyone who was an expert on sexual harassment in their ranks.” Pleased with himself, he jabbed a finger at the name. “Dr. Marlene Johnson is a nationally recognized expert on the topic. She’s frequently called in as an expert witness in cases involving sexual harassment.”

  “How do we pay her?”

  “We don’t. I told her what was going down, and she volunteered her services and time on your behalf. I explained that under the rules of the UCMJ, we couldn’t pay her anything, and I think she recognizes that the problems in the military are pretty overwhelming.”

  “So she’ll get cross-examined, too.”

  Ty grinned a bit more widely. “Yes. This lady is sharp. She’s cool under fire and knows her subject, so I feel that no matter what the other counsels do, they won’t shake her in the least.”

  “Unlike me,” Callie said. “I’m not so sure I can be calm and cool when I get grilled by those counsels. I’m angry, and when I get like that, I physically start to shake. My voice trembles, and I unravel.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ty said in a reassuring voice, although he was worried about that very thing. If Callie behaved like a stereotypical “hysterical woman,” it would count against her with the board. Tears and high emotions were foreign to the navy. He patted her hand. “I’m going to set up an appointment for both of us to talk with her tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”

  Callie nodded. “Sure, it’s fine. Frankly, I can use all the support I can get. Now that Lieutenant Clark has refused to help me, my case doesn’t have a leg to stand on. It’s three witnesses against my word. And I know Remington and those other two pilots are meeting together daily to get their story straight, so you can’t poke holes in it and expose them.”

  “That’s why I searched out an expert,” Ty said reassuringly. “Dr. Johnson will give us back what we lost in Clark.”

  Callie gave him a warm look filled with undeniable pride. “You continually surprise me. You just aren’t anything like I thought you’d be.”

  “Can’t judge a book by the cover, can you?” Ty teased lightly. How badly he wanted to kiss Callie again—only this time, a long, deep, slow kiss that would melt them into a burning fire of oneness. Reluctantly, he forced himself back to the issues at hand. “Or maybe I should say, you can judge a photo by its cover?”

  Laughing a little, feeling a bit of relief, Callie agreed, “I didn’t know you would get so much out of my photos.”

  “I got a lot,” Ty assured her huskily. “More than you’ll ever realize.”

  She sat back and tried to relax. “What did you find out?”

  He smiled and set the pencil aside. “That you really are a nature lover. You’re happiest around the ocean, because it gives you that sense of freedom you don’t feel otherwise, for some unknown reason.” He saw her face quickly close up, and went on in a light tone, hoping to draw her back out. “It’s obvious you love children—about half the photos are of them. And I think you like to play like a child, even if you don’t get a chance to exercise that side of yourself very often. Everything in your photos speaks of peace, not harm or violence.”r />
  Alarmed, Callie began to realize just how much Ty had seen of her through the photos. His gaze now was dark and intense—one that made her wildly aware of herself as a woman. Somehow, he’d discovered the essence of her—the fact that despite the tragedy that dogged her heels, she received a quiet strength and renewal through Mother Earth and nature.

  His look seemed as palpable as a lover’s touch, and the sensation was electric, moving through her like ribbons wafting on the wind. Desire, like a storm suddenly moving inland off the ocean, shot through Callie. She was caught by the smoldering gray of his eyes, nakedly proclaiming his hunger for her. More surprisingly, she felt a hunger within her to equal his. The realization shocked her, and she quickly dropped her gaze, her heart pounding madly in her breast.

  Shaken by the discovery, by the real and sizzling needs boiling through her blood, Callie couldn’t speak. She could only feel—deeply, vibrantly. Ty hadn’t touched her, yet her entire body and heart had responded to that one very male look he’d shared with her. Could one kiss have so unhinged her. Made her feel primal? Confused, Callie found her voice.

  “I—I’m really tired. Can we call it a night?”

  “Sure.” Unwillingly Ty gathered up all the papers, feeling the tightness of his need for her. Callie was like a siren—a mermaid come to land in a woman’s body. There was such an ethereal, haunting quality to her. His hands trembling slightly as he repacked the information in his briefcase, Ty felt the delicious throbbing tension in the kitchen. That one wide-eyed look of hers, her beautiful turquoise eyes meeting and holding his gaze, had triggered an incredible amount of longing within him.

  He wanted Callie—in every way. Yes, he wanted to feel her against him, he wanted to explore her wildly with kisses and revel in her response. There was no denying he wanted to find her in his arms, in his bed, at his side. But there was so much more, Ty admitted. How he longed to walk hand in hand with her along a sandy beach and simply watch her blossom beneath less-harsh, less-militaristic conditions.

  As he rose, he wondered exactly what price Callie had paid to remain in the navy. A heavy one, he acknowledged. She belonged barefoot, her camera in hand, in the wilds of the world—not in some darkened room for twelve-hour shifts looking at tiny, microscopic objects to identify as military targets. What a waste, he thought, as he eased around the table. It was as if navy life had sucked the lifeblood out of her, and the only way she could recapture even part of it was in her stunning photos.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow around 0800 and let you know when I’ll pick you up to meet with Dr. Johnson.”

  Callie gazed up at Ty. He was so near that she could feel that incredible aura of confidence and strength that always surrounded him. “Yes.” She reached out and briefly touched his forearm. “Thanks—for everything, Ty. Good night….”

  It took every shred of Ty’s discipline and good sense to leave. Callie was worn down by tonight’s interaction with him. Her skin looked almost translucent, stretched tautly over her cheekbones—evidence of the emotional price she’d paid to reach out and trust him.

  “Good night,” he rasped. Turning abruptly, he left, before he stayed and made the worst mistake of his life.

  Marriage to Jackie had taught him a great many things—among them, that a woman craved a natural intimacy with her man. As Ty shut the car door and strapped on the seat belt, he was deep in thought. Jackie had taught him that a woman liked to talk with her man—on an intimate level, not just about what had happened during the day at work. He’d come to appreciate that in his ex-wife, and he knew without a doubt that Callie would benefit from it, too—as would he.

  But Callie was fragile in a way Jackie never had been. And Ty was at a loss about how to handle it—or what to do without blowing the trust he’d managed to build between them.

  Grousing to himself, Ty drove away from the apartment complex, very unhappy and yet in another way euphoric. That one galvanizing look had held so much heat and promise, riveting both of them into a mute stare. Sweet God, but he’d savored that moment like a man with a raging thirst finally being fed drops of life-giving water. And now he knew that Callie was also drawn to him. He’d seen the expression in her face, the beauty in her eyes. And their kiss. He groaned loudly. Yes, there was something there to build upon.

  Whistling softly, Ty paid only cursory attention to the late-evening traffic around him. Nor did he pay any mind to the avenues of palms or the pale lavender tint to the sky just before the cloak of darkness unfolded across the land. On every level his awareness was focused on his emotions toward Callie. There was such richness to her that he felt like a gold miner who’d just discovered a tunnel bearing the valuable mineral. Only Callie wasn’t to be mined in some greedy, selfish way.

  Ty saw himself being able to appreciate her in ways he’d never been able to appreciate another woman—not even his ex-wife. Callie had many layers—surprising layers that she slowly, with coaxing, was revealing to him. And this was just the beginning, he realized with pleasure. If only this hearing wasn’t hanging over her—and him—and the relationship he was cultivating despite the threat of it.

  Some of his happiness eroded as he considered the secret that Callie carried deep within her heart and soul. Something had happened back at Annapolis. Something tragic. Something she insisted wasn’t in her personnel record. What could it be? Had she fallen in love with a young man who’d died? Or dumped her? Or had she had a series of men who’d never appreciated her, ending up scorned and mortally wounded by the combined experiences?

  Ty knew how rough the navy was on men, and he was beginning to get an inkling of how much rougher it could be on women. He sensed that Maggie, Callie’s sister, thrived on the challenge that the navy threw like a gauntlet in her face. But Callie wasn’t of the same temperament. Maggie was decidedly an extrovert and assertive—a natural leader. Callie was an introvert, a follower—and an artist at heart. The navy would never appreciate what Callie brought to the service.

  The next few days leading up to the board hearing were going to be nerve-racking for Callie. Ty wished he could protect her, but it was impossible. Callie’s armor, that tough side he was sure had been born in the heat of whatever battles she’d endured at Annapolis, would have to be erected to help her remain steady and cool. Ty had seen that side of her briefly when she’d challenged him. She would have to find that same scrappy defiance and anger, and fuse it into an impenetrable shield to protect her from the attacks to come.

  “Dammit,” he whispered as he turned onto the street leading to his home. Without a doubt, he knew that the three counsels would do their level best not only to gut Callie in front of the board, but to wound her mortally, if possible. They’d do it to teach not only her a lesson, but every other woman who had even a second thought about bringing an officer under scrutiny for sexual harassment. No, they were going to make Callie a scapegoat, and Ty felt an inner rage—and an inner need to protect her at all costs from such an attack.

  His hands tightening on the steering wheel, Ty braked the car and turned into the driveway of his ranch-style home, placed elbow-to-elbow in a row of similar houses. Turning off the ignition, he unlatched his seat belt and opened the door.

  Getting out of the sports car, Ty walked slowly toward the entrance, fishing in his pocket for his housekeys, deep in thought. That retired navy captain-turned-attorney would make mincemeat out of his toddling attempts to protect Callie. He wondered if the board would allow the pack of opposing counsels to viciously and continuously assail Callie. Opening the door to his house, Ty flipped on the living room light. Dropping his briefcase on the bamboo-style couch, he wandered into the small but neat kitchen.

  Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out a cold beer and opened it. Unlocking the rear door, Ty moseyed out to the patio and sat down on the lounger. Taking a long sip of beer, he looked up at the sky. Thin gray clouds were quickly covering what few stars were visible in the sky filled with San Diego’s reflected light. Was it sy
mbolic? he wondered. The stratus moved like dark, silent fingers across the sky, gobbling up everything in their path.

  Worried, his heart and mind settled back on Callie and her plight. He wanted to protect her not because he didn’t think she was capable of protecting herself, but because he liked her and wanted to keep her safe. He smiled a little to himself.

  “You’ve got it bad, Ballard. If anyone knew The Predator had just tripped head over heels for a woman, they’d laugh themselves to death over it,” he muttered aloud to the darkening night sky. Ty had known Jackie for two years before he’d married her—wanting to make sure she was the right woman for him. Well, time hadn’t been much of a guarantee, he thought, smiling derisively. Stunned by how much Callie now lived and breathed through each pore of him, Ty shook his head in wonderment. She was such a petite little thing—but he’d seen that Donovan backbone of steel once or twice, too.

  Maybe they did have a chance at the board—albeit a slim one. So much hinged on how Callie held herself together under fire. If she could come across as tough, resilient and relentless, then the men on the board might respect her—and believe her over the three pilots whom Ty knew would lie to save their careers at her expense.

  Gripping the cool, moisture-beaded bottle of beer, Ty leaned back, suddenly exhausted. He felt as if lightning had nailed him tonight after that kiss with Callie. His emotions were reeling, but he had to scramble to remain coherent, focused and intense for Callie’s sake. Releasing a breath, Ty wished the day for the hearing would hurry up and come. Callie was suffering badly, the torture of waiting taking a toll on her—as it was on him, too. No, next Monday couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Callie took one last look in the mirror of the women’s lavatory located in the Operations building at Miramar. Her hands were damp and sweaty, and her heart wouldn’t settle down. It was Monday morning, and in five minutes the board would be convened in a room adjacent to the teaching facility.