Point of Departure Page 8

  How badly Callie wanted to believe that Ty was one hundred percent in her corner. But the old, ingrained experiences of the past hammered at her newly found hope, reviving her sadness. Despite all that, she liked him on a personal level, she had to admit to herself. How many men could be as open as he’d already been with her? “I want you to be brutally honest about this with me, Commander. What is the best I can hope for out of this board?”

  “Can we be on a first-name basis?” Ty asked. “Frankly, for something like this, formality isn’t going to cut it. I need you to realize we’re a team, Callie. I’m not some ogre out to get you. And I’m not going to knowingly sandbag your case because I happen to be a ring-knocker.” He opened his hands toward her. “How about it? Can you trust me?”

  A lot of feelings thrummed through Callie as she sat digesting his plea. Her gaze ruthlessly delved into his, searching his face. Her ears keyed in on the tone of his voice for a long moment before she answered. “I want to trust you,” she began haltingly, “but I can’t. Not really.” With a wave of her hand, she added, “The past is in the way, and I hope you can realize that I’ve had some bad experiences that make me distrustful. I can call you by your first name, if you want.” With a shrug, Callie knew she couldn’t apologize, nor should she, for how she felt. Still, a large part of her, the part that liked Ty, felt terrible. Above all, Callie knew she had to be honest—even if it hurt both of them.

  A part of Ty responded to her soft tone, and he felt her anguish, no matter how she tried to hide it. What had happened in the past to make her so distrustful? He wanted to ask, wanted to pursue that avenue, but realized it wouldn’t be beneficial right now.

  “Okay,” he said in a low voice, “you’re being honest, and as much as I don’t like to hear it, I appreciate it.”

  “A part of me does trust you, Ty.”

  Hope rose in him, then was tempered. The corners of his mouth drew in to a deprecating smile. “But a larger part of you doesn’t?”

  “I guess,” Callie admitted wearily. It was late, and she was exhausted by the day’s roller coaster events. “Normally, I run and hide. I don’t like confrontation. I…just don’t.”

  “In this case,” Ty said, as he gathered up his papers, “let me do the confronting for you. I happen to think you’ve got a good, basic case against Remington and the others. What he did to you was unconscionable. Unforgivable. I don’t care what he tries to tell the board, I intend to shred him and his defense.”

  Callie lifted her head and heard the steely confidence in Ty’s lowered voice. She saw anger in his eyes and realized it wasn’t aimed at her—it was aimed at Remington. A little more of her battered hope surfaced. Did she dare trust that Ty Ballard was willing to attack the brotherhood in her defense? No, her head whispered, he’d never forsake his pilot brothers for a woman, no matter how clear the evidence. Yet the stern look on his rugged features made her believe differently. Maybe it was her damning idealism that rallied within her. But idealism had gotten her into so much trouble in the past. And idealism without a link to reality was dangerous. How well she knew that.

  “I want you to get a good night’s sleep,” Ty told her as he rose and replaced the papers in his briefcase. “I’ll do a little reconnoitering tomorrow morning, find out who will represent the three accused, and then come over here around 1000. We’re going to have to write a thorough report of what happened. I want you to try to remember the exact words used by each of the pilots—what you said, they said, what each player did.”

  Ty snapped the briefcase shut and stood there, his long hands draped over it. Callie Donovan was nothing like her sister Maggie, he realized. In comparison, Callie behaved like a beaten animal, cowed and wary. His heart opened to her, and Ty felt a tug at his emotions that he hadn’t experienced in this long, cold year since his divorce. And although Callie appeared wan, he also could register the hope, the caution—and the underlying strength-in her eyes.

  What he would have to do was play upon and support her strength and belief in herself—help her feel confident that she had a right to be heard and vindicated before that board. Callie didn’t really believe he could do that for her, and Ty felt a little like a knight whose armor was badly dented, rusted along with his reputation. In the past he had been as bad as many of the pilots, that was true. He’d been a woman-chaser, and he’d done it purely for the challenge of netting and taming the women for his own selfish needs and desires.

  A lot of water had gone under that bridge, he realized belatedly as he stared down at Callie. Jackie had taught him much about women and their capacities. He now could respect women, not needing to lump them into “safe” stereotypes. Further, because of what had happened to Callie, he was only beginning to realize how much those old behaviors victimized women, and he felt old guilt. But could he convince Callie of the change within? If she couldn’t completely trust him, then the board hearing would not work in her favor. She had to trust him fully, as if her life depended upon him—which, in some ways, it did.

  Yes, he had to gain Callie’s trust. But how? He only had seven days. Ty felt as if he were facing a double-edged sword. To gain her confidence, he had to establish intimacy with her on some level. But in doing that, Callie might misinterpret his behavior. Right now, what he really wanted to do was put the briefcase aside, walk over, take her in his arms and hold her. Simply hold her. But she might see his way of comforting her as something completely different—and that would smash the trust factor completely. Ty felt trapped and uncertain.

  “I’ll see you at 1000,” Callie said, rising to her feet. She could see a longing, some unnamed desire banked in his gray eyes, and an ache flowed through her, strong and sharp. Caught off guard by the rush of feelings, Callie held out her hand. “Thank you, Ty,” she whispered.

  Just the shining hope in Callie’s eyes made him feel like living again. Ty thought he saw something else in her expression, but it was fleeting, and he couldn’t interpret it. Could it be interest in him as a man? He fervently hoped so. He smiled a little and grasped her smaller hand. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a long road to climb—together.”

  His hand was warm, dry and firm. For an instant, Callie wanted to throw herself into his arms. Just to be held. Just to feel safe for a moment. The tenor of Ty’s deep voice, the feel of his hand encircling hers, told her that he’d offer that to her, if she wanted. She saw the mixture of need and respect in his eyes. The clash of her own yearnings forced her to pull her hand from his.

  “I don’t know about this ‘together’ thing,” she said uncertain. “I’ve been so alone so long, fighting my own battles, that I don’t know if I can be a team member in that sense, Ty.”

  Her gut-wrenching honesty touched him as nothing else could. Ty stood there, only a foot away from her, and began to realize what the navy had done to Callie. Admiration for her, for the fact that she loved her job and was patriotic to her country despite all the prejudice she’d experienced, rose in him.

  It was useless. Without thinking, Ty reached out to touch her cheek. He caught himself and drew his hand back. The look, the surprise in Callie’s eyes told him much: he saw no accusation in her gaze, rather a softening, as if she would have welcomed his touch. Would she? Terribly unsure, he allowed his hand to drop to his side and gave her a reluctant smile filled with apology. “Let’s take it one day at a time, shall we?”

  Callie felt suddenly breathless at the look she’d seen in Ty’s face—the outright hunger for her in his expression. Startled but overjoyed that her sense about him wasn’t wrong, she took precious moments to regroup her scattered emotions. There was something intangible, something beautiful and clean, that existed between them after all. The discovery was bittersweet. Callie intuitively felt that Ty had reached out to touch her cheek because he saw she needed care—desperately. But was this her idealism coming out again? She couldn’t be sure. With a nod, Callie agreed. “That’s good strategy.”

  Ty wanted to reach out again
, to cup her flushed cheek and give her some kind of reassurance. The need was intense, and it caught at his breathing. Forcing himself to move—knowing that if he didn’t, he was going to do the wrong thing—he eased around Callie.

  “Just have a pot of coffee on, okay?”

  Callie watched him hesitate at the entrance. Her mouth drew into a sad smile. “Sure.” She saw him lift his hand, then turn and disappear. After the door closed, Callie felt suddenly bereft. Abandoned. With a shake of her head, she realized that Ty Ballard’s overwhelming male confidence and presence had made her feel a little safety for the first time in her nine years in the navy. That in itself was an amazing discovery.

  What would the morning bring? Callie’s heart fluttered in nervous response to that question as she hobbled out of the kitchen and made her way to the large, roomy bathroom. A part of her was thrilled at the idea of seeing Ty again; another part wasn’t. The war between her head and her battered heart continued as she drew herself a bath. Sprinkling orange-scented crystals into the clear water, Callie undressed.

  As she sat on the stool and unwrapped her swollen, black-and-blue ankle, she laughed suddenly. That’s how she felt emotionally: bruised. But the feeling was nothing new. It had been in place since the academy. Now her physical body was merely mirroring how she felt inwardly.

  She glanced at the Ace bandage that she used to keep her ankle supported and in less pain. Could Ty become that for her on an emotional level? With a shake of her head, Callie moved carefully into the tub of fragrant water. She was becoming idealistic again.

  In her romantic life, she’d known only navy officers. All had been pilots. And all had abandoned her in some way. Ty Ballard would be no different, she reminded herself with heartbreaking clarity. He couldn’t be. Leopards didn’t change their spots—not ever.

  Chapter Six

  Ty arrived promptly at 1000, wearing his summer white uniform. Somehow, Callie thought, although heaven knew she’d seen thousands of men in uniform, Ballard was impressive. He wore his garrison cap, its patent leather bill black and shiny. His white uniform and hat gleamed in dark contrast to his darkly tanned skin, the jacket’s shoulder boards emphasizing how broad his shoulders really were. Most of all, he exuded a confidence she wished she had.

  This morning, Callie noted, his face was freshly shaven, the dark growth that had shadowed it the night before gone. It made him look less intense, but his gray, alert eyes held that same look, and made her feel a bit more hopeful than she had since she’d awakened. Offering him a hint of a smile, she gestured for him to come in.

  Ty nodded and took off his cap and placed it beneath his arm as he entered the foyer. Callie looked positively beautiful in such a refreshing way, he thought. Her black hair was recently washed, still damp and clinging to her head, the tendrils curling slightly at her temples. She’d paired a turquoise oversize shirt, its sleeves rolled up to her elbows, with a pair of white cotton slacks. And she was barefoot!

  Ty managed to keep to himself the smile that wanted to creep across his mouth. The many facets of Callie Donovan were as surprising as they were stimulating. He liked it that this navy-academy officer was willing to go barefoot. He liked her style, and he liked her ability to stay true to herself despite her background.

  Callie’s cheeks were flushed, emphasizing the blueness of her expressive eyes, as did the shirt she wore—and a dainty pair of turquoise-and-silver earrings. If possible, Ty thought as he walked down the hall to the kitchen, Callie looked a little more relaxed. He took her barefoot state to be a sign of some trust. His spirits lifted unaccountably, and he felt like whistling, his habit when he was happy.

  He hadn’t whistled in over a year, Ty realized as he set his briefcase on the table and waited for Callie to appear on her crutches. He smiled suddenly. Callie might see herself as a quiet shadow who worked in the background, unseen and unnoticed; but the woman had an incredible effect on him!

  Callie came around the corner and saw Ballard smiling. His entire face became less harsh, less intense, and in that startling moment, as she stood poised at the entrance, she saw a very human, very vulnerable side of him. The discovery jammed in her throat, momentarily suspending her breathing.

  “Oh, there you are,” Ty said, realizing that Callie was stopped in the doorway, staring at him, her lips parted, her eyes filled with something like shock. “Come on in,” he murmured, quickly swallowing his smile beneath a more businesslike aspect.

  Afraid to ask why he’d been smiling, Callie said nothing. She’d already set the coffee cups on the table. Now she went to the counter to get the steaming, fragrant liquid to pour into them. Feeling almost giddy, she struggled to keep a closed expression on her face as she poured the coffee.

  “Thanks,” Ty said, as he pulled out the other chair for her. He flushed as she turned and came toward him. “I want to tell you how pretty you look, but I’m afraid you’ll take it the wrong way, under the circumstances.”

  Touched by his admission, Callie’s lips softened. “Thank you for the compliment, and you’re right—I could take it the wrong way right now.” She sat down and watched him move around the table to take his seat. His short-sleeved white shirt and his white slacks were impeccably pressed and starched, accenting not only his dark tan but the thick black hair covering his arms. Ballard was such an intense, masculine kind of man that Callie felt slightly off balance around him. He appeared not to realize his effect on her, and she wondered if it was a sham, or if he really didn’t know his charisma was so overwhelming.

  Sipping the coffee, Ty realized appreciatively that gentle classical music was playing in the background. Sunlight lanced through the lacy curtains at the large windows above the kitchen sink. On the window shelf at least six small, potted plants were lined up. The different odors in the kitchen, which seemed to be coming from the plants, were alluring.

  “Are those cooking herbs?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a gourmet cook?” he teased her.

  Callie tried to settle her pulse and appear businesslike. “Upon occasion.”

  “Nothing makes me happier than a good meal,” he murmured.

  “Oh, that old adage of a woman getting to a man’s heart via his stomach?”

  “Ouch, no, I didn’t mean it that way.” Ty was beginning to realize how touchy Callie had become. He couldn’t blame her, but it was going to put a definite damper on the normal off-the-cuff remarks he usually shared with his friends.

  “I thought you were suggesting I invite you over for dinner some night,” Callie stated bluntly.

  Ty’s eyes twinkled. “Well, I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind—and stomach,” he admitted, “but I’m not going to put you in the position of having to turn me down, given what’s happened.”

  Callie tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  Ty stopped spreading out the papers necessary for the report. She seemed genuinely stymied by his admission. “After being harassed by three navy pilots, I don’t imagine you want another one in your life—for anything except professional reasons. If I were you, I’d be feeling pretty down on navy pilots. I wouldn’t want them anywhere around me.”

  “That’s a projection,” Callie said.

  “No,” Ty hedged, “I’m trying to put myself in your shoes. I’ve been trying to do that all morning. What would I feel like if this had happened to me?”

  “You’re surprising me,” Callie admitted with a shake of her head.

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve never met a navy pilot who thought of anyone but himself.” She knew that was harsh. Surely there were some nice guys out there—she’d just not had the good luck to meet them. Until now, perhaps….

  “I think,” Ty said lightly, trying to help her relax, “that we men have got that coming. You’re right—most pilots are not only filled with a lot of self-confidence, they’re also self-centered.”

  “My heart be still,” Callie laughed, placing her hand against h
er breast. “I never thought I’d live to see the day a navy pilot would say that about himself, much less his brothers.”

  With a grin, Ty felt joy flood him at the sound of Callie’s husky laughter. The light in her eyes was like the sun-gold flecks against the deep blue of her gaze. Her lips were soft and curved, and he suddenly ached to know what it would be like to touch them with his mouth, to explore her, and tap into that fire he knew burned hot beneath her cool exterior.

  “Believe me when I tell you that my divorce was a great leveler. It pointed out my shortcomings very succinctly.” He lost his smile and picked up a pen. “I hope I’ve learned from it. I hope I never see women the same way.”

  “You’re something else, Commander. This is the first time in nine years I’ve seen a man in the navy come clean with the truth.”

  “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t share this with anyone,” Ty said, now serious, “but I’ve got to do something to make you realize you can trust me, Callie.” And never had he wanted a woman to trust him more. Last night, too, he’d slept restlessly, tossing with thoughts and feelings, all centered on Callie.

  “There’s that word again.”

  “I know.” With a sigh, he gestured to the forms spread in front of her. “My counsel will only be as good as the information you supply me with.” He held her earnest gaze. “That means you have to trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets—that you have to come clean, too, in a sense. I just found out that Remington has hired a civilian attorney to represent him—an ex-navy captain who worked in Legal.”

  “Oh, no!” Callie felt her heart begin to thud slowly. That meant that Remington was going to fight back with every bit of power he could muster and afford. “He’s worried about this affecting his career,” she said bitterly.