A Question of Honor Read online

  Flushing, Kit stood nervously beneath his gaze. She could almost hear his rejoinder about him joining her in bed. The thought was startlingly heated. With every new discovery about Noah, her defenses melted just a little more, leaving her vulnerable to his appealing nature.

  Picking up the second cat, Noah grinned. “This dainty little morsel is Tuna Boat.” He placed her in Kit’s waiting arms.

  “She weighs a ton!” Kit exclaimed, hefting the twenty-pound long-haired gray cat.

  “Yes, well, Tunie has never missed a meal in her life, as you can tell.”

  Kit tried not to be swayed by Noah and petted the worshipful cat. She studied the cat’s face. “Oh, Noah…” she whispered, distraught. “Don’t tell me she’s—”

  “Blind,” Noah finished. “Some teenage boys were chasing her with sticks and struck her in the head down by the dock one morning before I went aboard the Osprey. I happened to see it, but by the time I got over there, the damage had been done. I took her to the vet and he said she was lucky to have survived the blow at all.” He stroked the cat’s head fondly as she nestled contentedly in Kit’s arms. “She’ll be blind the rest of her life.”

  Kit’s gray eyes glittered with unexpected tears. “How can people pick on poor, defenseless animals that have no way to protect themselves?”

  She was emotionally unpredictable. One more minus to their unworkable situation, Noah told himself. But Kit’s unexpected compassion touched him deeply. “Tunie has the run of the front yard and back. She’s in seventh heaven—she owns me, chows down twice a day and has a home.”

  “But she’s blind!”

  “Tunie doesn’t know that. Put her down, Kit, and watch her navigate for a moment. This cat has memorized the entire layout of the house and yard.” Noah shook his head, mystified. “I swear Tunie has all-terrain avionics inside that head of hers. She never runs into a tree or bush.” He ruffled the cat’s fur affectionately. “She’s quite a little lady.”

  Kit rested her fingers against her throat, swallowing hard.

  He gave her an intense look. “Animals touch you, don’t they?”

  She glared at him, then fixed her gaze on the cat. “Of course! Why should you be so surprised?”

  “Now calm down. That wasn’t meant as an accusation.”

  “It sounded like one.”

  “It was an obtuse compliment. Truce?”

  Kit gave him a disgruntled look as she tore her eyes from Tunie. “All right,” she relented. “Truce.” Her voice lowered with feeling. “I don’t believe all this. They’re all disabled.” And her eyes darkened upon him. “Am I one more cripple coming to your house, Noah?”

  The tenor of her voice caught him off guard. His green gaze softened as he held her wavering stare. “In my eyes, no one here is crippled. Does that answer your question?”

  Kit gulped down a lump, holding Tunie tightly. For some unknown reason, she identified strongly with the loving cat. “I feel like Tunie here,” she admitted rawly. “Only my blindness to the narc business has left me spinning.”

  Noah nodded, understanding far more about her condition than he could let on. “You’re surrounded by courage. Each one of these animals has pulled itself back to life with its own inner strength.” He gave her an unsure look. Kit was too mercurial for his tastes. “Listen, let’s get you settled. I’ve got some business to attend to back at the office. When I get home around seven, I’ll make dinner. Deal?”

  How could she say no? Kit wondered numbly, looking down at Tunie happily snuggled within her arms. Noah brought in her luggage and placed it in the brightly colored guest room that would be hers. Sunlight filtered through the pale green curtains. The bedspread was patterned with white daisies, yellow marigolds and rust-colored asters. The furniture was crafted from cherry wood, which added to the overall sense of richness of the decor. Kit stared at Noah’s broad back as he placed the suitcases on the bed for her. Those shoulders could conceivably carry the weight of the world, she thought. Her heart blossomed with hope—a feeling she thought had been taken from her forever. Looking down, she realized the animals had crowded around her feet once more. She managed a laugh.

  “Looks like I’m going to have all the help I need to unpack.”

  Her laughter was lilting, stealing through the barriers Noah had tried to erect. He straightened, forcing a smile. “Just watch Tunie. She has a terrible habit of plopping down in opened suitcases, open bureau drawers or on clothing that isn’t hung up.” Noah grimaced. “And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked gray cat hairs off my uniform.”

  “Typical man—you throw your clothes anywhere it suits you.”

  Smarting under her observation, Noah halted at the entrance. “Get used to your new home while I’m gone,” he muttered. “With all these characters here, I keep it clean or else. The bathroom is over there,” he said, pointing toward a closed door.

  “And your room?” Kit asked. The words were out before she could take them back.

  Noah acted as if there were nothing wrong with her question. “On the other side of your bathroom.” He gazed down at the animals, then up at her. “Take your time unpacking, get the layout of the house. Then I suggest a hot bath and some rest. You’re still pale.”

  Kit wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like being mothered, Noah.”

  His green eyes glinted with devilry. “Oh, yes, you do. You just don’t know it. I’ll see you later.”

  He was so sure of himself, and in her present state that unsettled her. “I’ll see you at seven.”

  The lack of enthusiasm, even friendliness in her tone, left him uncomfortable. “Yeah. Seven.” And he turned, leaving her bedroom.

  After Noah left, Kit chastised herself. Her voice had sounded clipped and hard. Noah Trayhern was making her emotions fluctuate like a roller coaster. As she put away her jeans and tank tops and hung up what few dresses and skirts she owned, Kit attempted to sort out the past week.

  Noah was a catalyst, she decided, for everything he came in contact with, judging from the animals sitting expectantly around the bed, watching her with aplomb. And whether Kit wanted to admit it or not, she felt protected with Noah’s animal family. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the bed, giving each cat a quick pat before wandering through the house. Home, she corrected herself. Noah calls it a home. It was going to be a battleground with them forced to live in such close quarters.

  Kit mulled over that thought as she ambled down the hall. The feeling in his house made her admit it really was a home. She looked over her shoulder: Tuna Boat waddled in the lead, with Calico and Tripoli bringing up the rear. A tender smile pulled at her lips as she watched them follow her like a gaggle of loyal geese. Noah was right: they didn’t recognize they were crippled, blind or shortchanged. Was love the ingredient that made them feel whole again?

  Deep in thought, Kit wandered into Noah’s bedroom by accident. Tuna Boat came and rested her plump fanny on Kit’s foot. Calico wheezed on by, leaping up on the multicolored afghan spread across the large bed. Noah was like a prism, Kit decided as her gaze ranged around the room. Sunlight, when refracted through a crystal, revealed all the colors seen by the human eye. This room, this house, did not mirror the dark side of masculinity. Instead, like a prism, it showed light, color and sensitivity.

  Several luxuriant Boston ferns hung from the ceiling, and potted plants graced the finely crafted cherry-wood dresser. The warmth of the highly waxed mahogany floors only enhanced the feeling of life that made Kit want to stay in his room. A flood of guilt surged through her: she felt as if she were trespassing. Yet it was as if he had invited her to explore this personal side to himself. He trusted her!

  By the time she had completed her exploration of the house, Kit was tired. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost three o’clock. Noah’s suggestion of a hot bath sounded heavenly. At the door to the bathroom, Kit turned to the two cats tagging along with her.

  “No,” she told them firmly. “You are not f
ollowing me in here.”

  As Kit shut the bathroom door and slid out of her clothes, her mind drifted back to Noah. She realized as she stepped into the hot, fragrant water that she had been on the receiving end of his hard, efficient side. This new and unexpected aspect involving his love of animals that had suffered beckoned to her. Noah was healing, whether she wanted to admit it or not. But could she keep her personal feelings for him at bay and maintain the decorum demanded of both of them in this unusual circumstance?

  Getting out of the bath, Kit slipped into a silky lavender nightgown. Drowsy and feeling relaxed, she padded to the bed and lay down. As she tucked her hands beneath the pillow and closed her eyes, her last thoughts were of Noah and the miraculous effect he had upon her.

  The sun was hot, making the humidity seem even higher than usual. Noah brushed a light film of sweat off his brow as he eased himself out of the Trans Am. He saw Tripoli at the picture window of his house as he sauntered up the walk. Glancing at his watch, he realized he was half an hour late. Kit was probably furious. Starving women made poor companions. Unlocking the front door, he was greeted by the Doberman. Noah leaned over to pet him, then took off his officer’s cap and dropped it on the small desk.

  “Where’s Kit?” he asked. The dog leaped away, his claws clacking noisily on the wooden floor as he raced to the end of the hall toward the bedrooms. Noah followed him, steeling himself against Kit’s anger at his lateness.

  To his surprise, Kit didn’t come out to meet him. He halted at the entrance to her bedroom, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The venetian blinds behind the green curtains had been pulled shut, and Noah felt his features relax. Kit lay asleep, a light quilt drawn up to her waist. Both cats were napping beside her.

  Quietly entering the room, Noah stood over Kit and watched her sleep. He shouldn’t be standing here; he ought to pretend she wasn’t even in the house. But that was impossible, he admitted harshly to himself. While at dockside with the Osprey crew, he’d thought constantly of Kit being here in his home. Oddly, just getting to see her helped evaporate the confusion of his feelings. He narrowed his eyes with concern. Even in the semidarkness her skin was pale, drawn tightly across her cheekbones. The shadows beneath her eyes were still in evidence, and Noah tried to curb his worry. Her lips were parted, stress no longer drawing in the corners. So, he thought, you really do want to laugh. She looked like a lost, helpless waif on the huge expanse of the bed. Noah leaned over and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, tucking it in so that she would remain warm despite the coolness of the central air-conditioning.

  Straightening, Noah ordered himself to leave. He had to before he reached out to caress her cheek. Every time he got around Kit, he seemed to go into a tailspin. She must have taken a bath—her hair was slightly curled, easing the angular planes of her face and creating a softer look to her features. The powerful need to will away the pain she still carried caught him off balance.

  He didn’t want to leave Kit’s room, but he made himself move. How Kit, as a woman, had survived five years in the narc trench warfare was beyond him. He kept the door to her bedroom open so that the animals could come and go as they pleased. As he walked down the hall to his own room, Noah admitted that Kit affected him deeply. No woman had ever reached out and unraveled him like this. Somehow, he was going to have to hide all those feelings from her. But how?

  Kit felt the warm roughness of a man’s hand moving across her shoulder. Drowsily she forced open her eyes. Even in the darkness she was aware of the intensity of Noah’s gaze as he leaned over her.

  “I thought I’d better get you up for a bite to eat,” he explained in a low voice. “Then you can go back to bed.”

  She fought the drugged feeling of tiredness, slowly becoming aware of his presence. A fresh ribbon of emotion squeezed from her heart as she silently stared up at him. Noah gave her stability, and something more. “Wh-what time is it?”

  “Almost 9:00 p.m.”

  “Nine?” Her eyes widened and she struggled into a sitting position. It dawned on her that she was wearing a revealing gown with a low-cut neck, and heat rushed into her cheeks. What was he doing in her bedroom? And then, with a pang, Kit realized she hadn’t shut the door, so how could he knock and announce his presence? She pulled her knees upward. Sudden shyness gripped her when she saw the undisguised hunger in his eyes.

  Noah placed himself in check. Gone were all of Kit’s defenses. She sat shyly before him like a child-woman just awakening from a wonderful dream. Grimly he forced himself to step away from the bed.

  “I wanted you to get something to eat before we tucked you in for a good night’s sleep,” he told her, his voice gruff.

  “‘We’?” Kit asked, her voice husky.

  Noah gestured to the foot of the bed. “The cats slept with you.”

  Kit laughed. It was a clear, uninhibited laugh, straight from her heart. And the rich sound coming from her filled her with an inexplicable joy. Her eyes crinkled as she met Noah’s green gaze. “I don’t believe this, Noah. I feel as if I’m in some kind of dream. Your animals are like little guardians.” Her smile died on her lips as she searched his shadowed face.

  “You’re coming out of a five-year tunnel of darkness.”

  “I’m just beginning to realize how badly I buried myself in my work. You’re right. It was a horrible tunnel.”

  “Life doesn’t have to be a dark, moody scene, Kit. There can be light and laughter in this crazy-quilt world of ours.” He managed a smile. “There can be light even in the worst sort of darkness.”

  Kit shut her eyes and turned her head away. “At first I thought you were just like Pete.”

  Noah shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Oh?” What she thought of him meant more than he cared to admit.

  Kit rested her cheek against her drawn-up knees and stared blankly at the wall. “You’re driven just as he was. And you have something to prove because of your family tragedy. Pete was always striving to prove he was better than anyone else. His work was his entire life.” Releasing a broken sigh, Kit raised her head and gazed up at Noah. “Maybe I’m wrong about you to a degree. This house is lived in and cared for. All the plants are healthy and trimmed. I noticed you had a bunch of seedlings on the windowsill in the kitchen…. Your officer image doesn’t fit the Noah Trayhern who lives in this house.”

  Relieve to hear she didn’t think he was another Pete Collins, Noah grinned. “Don’t take my officer image too lightly. Remember, I come from a family with a two-hundred-year tradition of military service.”

  Although hungry for information about him, Kit quelled her curiosity. Even in the shadows, Noah had a kind face when he allowed that officer’s mask to slip. The man who stood relaxed in front of her was her boss. Kit couldn’t still the suffused happiness that surfaced unexpectedly within her. “Let me put my robe on, and I’ll join you in a few minutes,” she promised.

  Chapter Five

  Kit shuffled into the kitchen. Hands thrust deeply into the blue velour pockets of her robe, she stood uncertainly at the entrance. Noah had just placed a seafood salad at the table, and he motioned for her to come and sit down.

  He saw a smile light her eyes, erasing the tension around her mouth. “Come on in,” he invited.

  “Somehow,” Kit commented, sitting down and picking up the royal blue linen napkin, “I think I’ve got the better end of our deal. This is more than a safe house. This salad looks pretty good.”

  Pouring her some coffee, Noah sat down opposite her. Funny, how Kit made the house feel warm and comfortable with her quiet presence. “My mother made all three of us kids learn how to cook,” he noted wryly.

  Smiling, Kit picked up the fork. Suddenly she was famished. The combination of crab, lobster and shrimp on a bed of fresh lettuce was incredibly appealing. “Good for her.”

  “Did yours?”

  She grinned and scooped a forkful of crab into her mouth. There was amusement in Noah’s thoughtful green
eyes. The rapport he established with her was molten, heating the inner fires of her heart. “Yes, me and my older brothers.”

  “Good for her,” he repeated.

  “I’ll help around here with house duties, Noah. I don’t intend to be a bad house guest.”

  “This house is just like a ship. Every crew member has responsibilities. We’ll set up a system and share the chores. You’re not the type to escape duty, anyway,” he mused, sipping his coffee.

  “You’re right. Noah, this is really disconcerting.”

  “What is?”

  Kit jabbed her fork into a piece of lobster. “You have an entire personnel file on me. I have absolutely nothing on you.”

  “I’m an open book.”

  Kit gave him a dark look. “Sure you are.”

  He sat back, the silence pleasant despite her growling. “I figure with the time we’re going to have to spend with each other, you’ll probably find out more about me than you’d like to know.”

  Kit wasn’t so sure. “To tell you the truth, I’m feeling bad about cluttering up your personal life by using your place as a safe house.”

  Noah toyed with his cup, turning it slowly around. “I don’t have much of a personal life, except that I visit my parents in Clearwater once a month, or open up one of the guest rooms to my sister, Alyssa.”

  Kit finished the salad and pushed the plate aside, then picked up her coffee cup. “It sounds like you’re close to your family, the way I am to mine.”

  He snorted softly. “Believe me, if we hadn’t been close in these five years since Morgan disappeared, I don’t know how any of us would have survived.”

  She nodded sympathetically, recalling the press about Morgan Trayhern’s defection to North Vietnam. Every time the topic came up, Noah’s eyes reflected grief and sadness. Kit hurt for him.

  “My father just retired from the Minneapolis Police Department,” she offered, not wanting to dig into something so sensitive. “I have three brothers who are in the highway patrol.”

  “Family tradition runs strong in you, too.”