Colonel Daddy Page 8

  Their guests, the chaplain, everything disappeared into a hazy background that meant nothing to him. His world suddenly collapsed to contain only him and the woman in his arms.

  She moaned gently and parted her lips for him. He invaded her warmth, taking all she offered and silently, hungrily, demanded more. How had he made it these past couple of weeks without the taste of her on his lips? How had he survived the emptiness of not being able to hold her, feel her pressed against him?

  This celibacy thing of hers was going to kill him.

  At that thought Tom kissed her even more deeply. He held her tight and leaned back, lifting her feet off the ground. She entwined her arms around his neck and clung to him with the same desperate strength that shuddered through him. He felt her need. Felt her desire quicken in time with his and hoped that tonight she would release them both from their vows of chastity.

  Oblivious to the shouts, wild applause and the grunted calls of “Ooo-rah!”, the bride and groom lost themselves in each other, determined that for the moment at least, tomorrow could take care of itself.

  “It was a beautiful wedding, hon,” Evie told her and reached up to kiss her cheek.

  “Thanks for coming, Evie,” Kate said, and meant it. Since she had no family, and her closest friend was presently stationed in Okinawa, the wedding guests had been friends of Thomas’s. Except for Evie Bozeman.

  True to form, the older woman was dressed outrageously in a lime green, knee-length skirt, topped with a lemon yellow, long-sleeved sweater. And on her feet she wore sneakers.

  “That groom of yours looked good enough to eat,” Evie commented drily and let her gaze slide over the small crowd until it landed on the Colonel. He seemed to sense her stare and looked their way with a tight and, to Kate’s mind, wary smile. “Uniforms just do something to me. Always have. World War II was the best time I ever had—” She caught herself and blushed furiously. “Well, except for all the bloodshed naturally.”

  “Naturally.” Kate couldn’t help smiling and was doubly pleased to have Evie there. Lord knew she’d been so busy trying to hide her nervousness all day, it felt good to laugh. To relax a bit.

  “So,” Evie went on a moment later. “You’ll be moving out of the apartment now.”

  And into Thomas’s home. Their home now, she thought, letting her gaze slide across the neatly landscaped yard. “Yes, this week.”

  “I’ll miss you, girl.”

  “You could come and visit me,” Kate said, and hoped she would.

  “On base?” Evie’s silvery eyebrows wiggled dangerously. “Now there’s an idea...” Her smile and the speculative gleam in her eye would have worried Thomas.

  Music swelled up from the stereo someone had dragged outside and Johnny Mathis’s smooth-as-cream voice carried over the muttered conversations.

  Kate shot a look at her husband...husband, and saw that he was headed toward her, determinedly threading his way through the cluster of people standing on the covered patio. Her stomach skittered and her heartbeat pounded unsteadily. Would he always have this effect on her? she wondered. In twenty years, would she still look into his eyes and feel a slow burn ignite inside her?

  “Well,” Evie murmured, “looks like you’ve got your dancing partner. Think I’ll just go find one for myself.”

  In a blink she was gone, and Kate thought she detected a glimmer of relief in Thomas’s eyes when he came to a stop directly in front of her.

  “I believe,” he said, “the first dance belongs to us.”

  “I’m not a very good dancer, remember?” Even as she said it, she thought, stupid, stupid, stupid. She was the one who had instigated the celibacy rule. She was the one trying to make them find more than sex to bind them together. And what does she do? Introduce the memory of the last time they’d danced together.

  In a flash, that night leaped into life in her mind. Candles. Dozens of candles in the Tokyo hotel room. Music drifting through the wall from the room next door and the two of them, doing a slow, careful dance in the shower.

  Until she slipped, dragging him down with her in a tangle of limbs that had led to a few very interesting moments.

  “Oh, I remember,” he said softly and bent to add, “but the floor’s not wet here. It should be safe enough.” Then he smiled and held out one hand toward her. “Risk it?”

  God, she was hopeless. Simply hopeless. One look from those eyes of his and she was a cooked goose. One flash of his dimple and she was a puddle. One touch of his hand and she was a ball of fire, ready to explode.

  The memory of their kiss at the altar rose up in her mind, fanning a flame that seemed only too ready to blaze up into an inferno.

  Celibacy suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.

  But the music played on and Thomas was waiting. She paid no attention to the people watching them. In truth, they might not have been there at all. As she looked up into his eyes, it was as if the two of them were completely alone. Slowly, she placed her hand in his. He moved into the dance, and she felt herself gliding across the concrete patio in a tight, smooth circle. His hand at her waist pressed her tightly to him, and the heat from his palm shot through her to settle down low inside.

  She stumbled once, but his strong grip kept her steady, and she knew he would always be there to steady her. Unshakable. Steadfast.

  He thought of himself as bad husband material. But he’d entered that first, failed marriage as a child. It was hardly surprising that he and Donna’s mother hadn’t been able to stay together.

  Kate was sure, even if he wasn’t, that this time would be different. Now that he’d taken a vow... given his word to be both husband and father, nothing would be able to shake him. She stared up into his eyes and realized that from now on, he would give her everything he could. Everything but his love.

  A small twist of pain plucked at her heart.

  What if she spent the rest of her life being a duty fulfilled? What if she was never able to convince him that love wasn’t a thing to be feared, but to be cherished? What if all they ever would be were intimate strangers?

  With that worry bouncing around her mind like a Ping-Pong ball in a box, the music ended.

  Eight

  “Relax and enjoy it, Dad,” Donna said as her father led her around the makeshift dance floor.

  “I am relaxed,” he argued, his gaze shifting from his daughter��s face to the crowd beyond, instinctively looking for his new bride. It seemed as though every male guest at the wedding had lined up for a chance to take a spin with the beautiful major.

  “Yeah, right.” Donna gave his rigid shoulder a shake and laughed. “You’re not supposed to be at attention when you’re dancing, y’know.”

  Sighing, Tom gave up the search for Kate and smiled down at her. “Okay, so I’m not relaxed. What groom is?”

  “Most of them, I hear, get nervous before the wedding, not after.”

  “I’m a Renaissance man,” he quipped. “I do both.”

  Donna studied him for a long moment, and Tom had the distinct feeling that she was seeing far too much. That hunch was proven right when she spoke again.

  “She’s really nice, Daddy,” she said softly. “If you’ll let yourself, you could even be...happy.”

  “Donna—”

  “Dad. I know what you’re going to say.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re going to say that you’re no good at marriage and you’re scared spitless that you’re going to mess up this one.”

  He gave her a mock frown, trying to pretend that she hadn’t hit the mark so effortlessly. “Marines don’t get scared, kiddo. You should know that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She laughed and inclined her head toward her husband, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her all day. “You forget, I’m married to a tough guy. And let me tell you, he’s plenty scared at the idea of being a father.”

  “Tell him to relax,” Tom said, giving her a pointed stare. “It’ll only be hard on him if he has a daughter who grow
s up to be a know-it-all.”

  “A know-it-all who’s right, if you please.”

  Tom shook his head, damned if he would admit just how right she was. What was it about women, anyway? How did they manage to get right to the heart of something?

  The music ended and Tom released her, but before she stepped away, she leaned in, looked him dead in the eye and whispered. “Weren’t you the man who told me that it didn’t really matter how my marriage started? That I could make it into whatever I wanted it to be if I was only willing to work at it?”

  Or words to that effect, he thought grimly, recalling the incident perfectly. Damn. Nothing harder than your child using your own words against you.

  To Donna he said only, “That was different, sweetie.”

  “Why?” she asked, again cutting to the center of things. “Because it was me and not you?”

  “Donna...”

  Another tune started on the stereo, and he took a half step away from her. One thing he really didn’t need right now was a lecture from his daughter.

  But she stopped his retreat with one hand on his arm. “Dad, all I’m saying is that you have a great chance here. A chance to be happy. Don’t blow it because you’re afraid to fail.”

  Before he could say anything in response, Donna’s husband came up behind her and claimed her for the next dance. Tom had never been so glad to see the first sergeant. As much as he loved his daughter, he just wasn’t up to hearing more advice on marriage from her.

  Smiling and nodding at the guests he passed on his way to the punch bowl, he rubbed one hand across the back of his neck and tried not to think about everything Donna had said.

  She meant well. But she didn’t have the slightest idea what he was feeling. Thinking. She didn’t know about Kate’s celibacy rule—hardly a recipe for a happy marriage. She didn’t know about the baby yet—or did she? he wondered, remembering how much time Donna and Kate had spent together lately. At the refreshment table, he squeezed in beside a staff sergeant and a captain, muttered a greeting to each of them, then concentrated on the punch. He picked up the ladle, poured himself a cup of the toosweet liquid and turned, scanning the crowd again, looking for Kate. At last he spotted her in the arms of a newly commissioned lieutenant. Instantly he released every thought, every word and luxuriated in the simple joy of looking at her.

  Maybe, he told himself when she laughed up at her dance partner, maybe Donna was right. Maybe with a little effort, his bright new world wouldn’t come crashing down around him.

  The house was too quiet.

  Kate wandered toward the sliding glass doors leading from the living room to the covered patio outside. She met her reflection in the glass, then refocused her vision to stare past the mirror image of herself to the candle-sparkled darkness beyond.

  With a sigh, she turned her back on the night and let her gaze slide across the massive living room. The caterers had cleaned and carried away every last trace of the small reception. Only the echoes of the party remained.

  Thinking back on it now, the images in her mind were a blur of color and noise. Except for one, she thought. She closed her eyes and brought up the mental picture of Thomas, standing at the flowerbedecked arch beneath the maple tree.

  He was tall and gorgeous in his dress blue uniform, and just the sight of him was enough to weaken her knees until she had to lock them and practically goose-step down the short aisle to his side. A wistful smile crossed her face briefly. It could have been so perfect. So wonderful.

  Under other circumstances.

  If he’d only loved her. But taking vows with a man who was doing his duty... the “responsible thing,” certainly wasn’t any woman’s idea of a romantic wedding.

  Glancing down at her left hand, she studied the dull gleam of the burnished gold band on her ring finger. It shone gently in the soft lamplight as she lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers.

  It was official. She was married to the man she loved. No going back now. Not that she would want to. But she would give anything at the moment to be leaving on a honeymoon. Instead, she’d be unpacking her suitcases in one of the guest rooms of this big house.

  Where she would spend her wedding night.

  Alone.

  “Kate.”

  Thomas walked into the living room, his uniform jacket unbuttoned, hands in his pockets. He looked weary, relaxed and entirely too good.

  Resolutely Kate picked up her bouquet from the nearby table and nervously threaded her fingers through the cluster of dark blue ribbons streaming from it. The satin felt cool, smooth, silky. Like Thomas’s hair, her mind whispered, and she pushed that thought aside.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s lots of leftovers in the fridge.”

  Her stomach skittered at the mention of food. “Not very, thanks. You?”

  He shook his head and crossed the room to her side. “It was a nice wedding, don’t you think?”

  It was perfect, she almost said, but settled for, “Beautiful.”

  “Good of Donna and Jack to stand up for us.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “It was.” Kate and Donna had already become good friends in the last week or so. And knowing that her husband’s grown daughter was on her side rooting for her helped a lot.

  “You were beautiful today,” he whispered as he came to a stop directly in front of her.

  Then the expense of the dress had been worth it. She could have gotten married in her uniform. After all, it hadn’t been exactly a formal wedding. But for today, Kate had wanted something purely feminine. Something soft and pretty.

  Something to give her confidence in this huge step she was taking.

  He lifted one hand and reached out, smoothing back an errant lock of her hair and tucking it behind her ear. She shivered at his touch and told herself she couldn’t help it. It was simply a reaction. Like a match to a flame. Fire to dynamite. It simply was. Thomas touched her and she trembled.

  He let his hand drop, then glanced past her at the patio and said, “Guess we’d better blow out those candles, huh?”

  Kate followed him outside and lifted her face to the soft ocean breeze drifting across the lawn.

  They’d barely gone a few steps when her husband stopped dead and half turned to the house again. “Wait a minute,” Thomas said. “There’s something we should do. I’ll be right back.” In a couple of strides, he’d disappeared into the house again.

  Confused at his abruptness, Kate moved across the cement slab to the first table, bent over the glass hurricane globe and blew out the candle inside. A thin string of smoke lifted into the air, twisted and danced in the wind for a long moment, then disappeared. Sort of like the dreams she used to have about Thomas and her. Thin, wispy imaginings torn apart by reality. She walked along the table, snuffing out two more candles, inhaling the sharp, acrid scent of the burned wicks and pretending that it was the smoke making her eyes water.

  Soft, haunting music swelled up out of nowhere and drifted across the patio toward her. She tightened her grip on her bouquet and turned slightly to watch Thomas walk toward her, a bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other.

  God. Evie was right. He did look good enough to eat. And because of her own rules, she wasn’t even allowed a taste. That was enough to send a shaft of pure regret slicing along her spine. What she wanted now, more than anything, was to be in his arms. To feel the magic they created whenever they were together. To try to pretend that the lust he felt for her was really love.

  This was her wedding day, damn it. And she wasn’t going to get a wedding night. The fact that that was due entirely to her was unimportant at the moment.

  “I think we deserve a toast, Kate,” he said and set both glasses down onto one of the tables still blessed with flickering candlelight.

  “Maybe not,” she said, despite wanting nothing more than to at least share a toast with her husband on their wedding day. “The baby...”

  “A half a glass shouldn’t hu
rt,” he said, and poured a splash of the sparkling wine into each glass.

  She nodded and accepted the crystal he offered her, running her thumb over the delicate pattern etched into it.

  “To us,” he said and lifted his flute higher. “And to the baby. May we all be happy.” Tom took a sip and watched her over the rim of his glass. She barely touched the wine to her lips before setting the drink down onto the table. A deep, wistful sadness shone in her eyes, touching Tom to the core.

  Damn it, he’d wanted everything to be right for her. This was her first...hopefully, her only marriage. Her day as a bride. And she deserved to be happy. Lord knew, he couldn’t promise much, but he could at least give her today. And maybe, with a little luck...tonight.

  “Kate—”

  “Thomas,” she interrupted him quickly. “It’s late. We’re both tired. Why don’t we just go to bed?”

  Those few, simple words set off a blazing inferno inside him. He looked at her, long and hard, hoping to let her see in his eyes what he was feeling.

  Seconds ticked past. Her tongue smoothed across dry lips, and something in the pit of his stomach tightened.

  “I mean,” she said, after clearing her throat, “you know what I mean.”

  Yeah, he did. But at the moment he really didn’t want to think about going to his empty bed and lying wide-awake in the dark—while she was just across the hall from him.

  No, he wanted to hold her, feel her flesh beneath his hands, look down into her passion-glazed eyes and feel the power of the magic that existed between them. He wanted to bury himself in her warmth and feel the silken strength of her arms wrapped tightly around him.

  But if he couldn’t have that, then he would settle for not letting this night end too soon. “Dance with me, Kate.”

  She inhaled sharply and took a half step backward, but she bumped into another table and stopped just as abruptly. Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t think so, Thomas.”

  “A dance, Kate.” He reached for her, drawing her into the circle of his arms before she could refuse him again. With her breasts flattened against his chest, he held her tightly to him with a firm, gentle pressure. “It’s just a dance.”