THE MARINE & THE DEBUTANTE Read online

  But naturally none of that actually happened.

  "I was just coming to see you," he said.

  She flinched at the distance in his voice. Ordinarily those would have been good words. But said in that tone, Lisa was sure that if she let him keep talking, she wouldn't like what he had to say.

  "Well then," she spoke up quickly, filling the brief silence before he could. "This is what I call good timing."

  "Lisa—"

  "Travis…" She turned around quickly to face him and, for the space of a single heartbeat, lost herself in the warmth of his gaze. Yet, as tempting as it was to stay lost, she saw in the tension of his stance that he was already preparing himself to say goodbye. And she couldn't let him do that. "I came to take you sight-seeing."

  He frowned. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting that. Slowly he folded his arms across his impossibly broad chest. "Sight-seeing?"

  For a moment or two she faltered. She should have thought of this. He was a Marine, for Pete's sake. He might have been in D.C. any number of times. Funny, this had seemed like such a good idea a couple of hours ago. Now, she felt … foolish. So just to make things worse, her brain shut down and her mouth took over. "I thought you might like to see some of Washington while you're here. Unless you've been here before, of course." Great, she thought absently as she watched her hands waving about, keeping time with the flood of words. Now she looked foolish, too. "Because you know, if you have been here before, then you probably aren't interested. But if you haven't, you really should see some of the city, and I could show you because I've lived here my whole life and—" She finally ran out of breath, thank heaven. Now if only the floor would open up beneath her so she could fall into a black hole.

  When she stopped talking, a long minute of strained silence ticked past. Lisa kept her gaze locked with his, as if she could will him into agreeing. And even as she tried, a part of her recognized that if Travis Hawks didn't want to do something, he couldn't be intimidated into it. Wasn't that one of the things she admired about him?

  Most of her life the men she met were all eager to do whatever she asked, in hopes of getting in good with her father. Travis, though, couldn't care less who her father was and had more than once voiced his low opinion of "spoiled princesses." Which was why, she told herself, his opinion of her mattered so much.

  He reached up and moved both hands along the sides of his head. Lisa watched the play of muscles beneath his faded T-shirt. Her mouth went dry, and a warm curl of something achy and delicious settled low in her belly. Really, he was the most amazing man.

  "I was coming to see you," he said, his voice rumbling through the silence like an out-of-control freight train, "to say goodbye."

  She winced at the jab of pain those words caused. And the warmth she'd felt only moments ago turned to ice. He was leaving? Already?

  "Travis—"

  "No, let me say this," he said, stepping close enough that she would have sworn she could hear his heartbeat thundering in time with her own. "Whatever this is between us? It's no good. You know that, right?"

  "No, I don't."

  "Damn it, Lisa…"

  "Damn it, yourself," she said quickly, letting the words tumble from her mouth in a rushed attempt to head him off at the pass, so to speak. "There's something magical between us, Travis, and you know it. We shouldn't waste it. We should be enjoying it."

  "It isn't real," he argued and another quick slash of pain shot through her. "It was the danger. The fear. The whole experience of being out in that desert together. It was just circumstance, Lisa."

  "No. I don't believe that, and I don't think you do, either." What had happened so briefly between Travis and her had been the most real thing in her life. And she wouldn't let him throw it away so easily.

  His features went, if possible, even stonier. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was a statue, carved from unforgiving granite.

  "What I believe," he said, "is that my world and yours just don't mix."

  "They don't have to."

  "Yeah, they do. Or they'll collide, and the crash will be something spectacular."

  "So to avoid that, you'll run."

  He stiffened, and she gave herself a mental point for scoring a direct hit.

  "I'm not running."

  She glanced at his sneaker clad feet and snorted a short laugh. "Heck, Travis. You've even got your track shoes on to make a little extra time."

  "I'm trying to do what's right."

  "You're wrong."

  "I don't think so."

  "And what about me maybe being pregnant?" She had to throw that one in. Lisa still didn't believe that she would prove to be pregnant. After all, one time was one time and what were the odds? She'd probably have a better chance at winning the lottery. Yet she was running out of ammunition and the war wasn't over yet. "What happened to your vow to stay close until we knew?"

  He scowled at her, and she knew she had him. Scraping one hand across his jaw, he inhaled sharply and blew out the air in a rush of exasperation. "I'll call you in a couple of weeks and—"

  "I won't answer the phone."

  "Damn it."

  "If you want an answer to that question, Travis," she said, playing her last card, "you'll have to stick around long enough to find out."

  "When will you know?"

  She shrugged as if she wasn't sure, when in reality, she knew very well that she'd find out one way or the other by the end of the week.

  "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

  "Why are you not?"

  "I'm trying to do what's right."

  "So am I," she told him and looked up into his eyes.

  He grabbed her shoulders, and she felt the hot, strong imprint of each of his fingertips as if he were branding her skin right through the silk of her blouse. Tendrils of excitement and desire spiraled through her body, at direct odds with the near panic rising up in her brain.

  "You're crazy, you know that?"

  "I can live with that," Lisa said softly, smiling up at him. She'd won. She saw the surrender in his eyes, felt it in his touch. He'd be staying. For a while, at least. And somehow, in the time he was here, she'd have to convince him that they belonged together.

  "You're so beautiful."

  Lisa blinked. "What?"

  "Beautiful," he repeated, and shifted his gaze over her features slowly, lovingly.

  Lisa's stomach jittered, and a flush of heat raced through her bloodstream. "I am?"

  "Oh, yeah," he said, one dark eyebrow lifting. "And you know it."

  All right, so she'd primped a little before coming to see him. What woman wouldn't? After all, she hadn't exactly looked her best out in the desert. Lisa ran the flat of her hands down the front of her charcoal-gray slacks, then fidgeted with the gold chain belt at her waist. Her pale-pink silk blouse suited her, she knew, with its scooped neck and three-quarter-length sleeves. And the small but elegant diamond heart she wore around her neck had belonged to her mother.

  She reached up now to finger it nervously.

  He lifted one hand from her shoulder to stroke his fingertips along her cheek and sent shivers skipping giddily through her veins. So fast, she thought. So incredibly fast. She'd hardly known him a week, and yet it felt as though her soul had been waiting for him all her life. Lisa didn't understand how this could have happened. And so quickly. Maybe it was the tense situation they'd shared back in the desert. Maybe fear and danger and the need to depend on each other for survival had compressed months of living into a few short days. But it didn't really matter how it had happened. The simple fact was she had absolutely no doubts.

  She loved Travis Hawks.

  * * *

  For the next few days Travis spent almost every waking moment with Lisa. And leaving her every night was getting more and more difficult. His body ached to join hers again. His hands itched to touch her, and the taste of her still lingered on his tongue. Desire chewed at his soul until it was all he could do to keep from g
rabbing her.

  And damned if she wasn't enjoying it. He could see it in the way she moved. The way she talked. The way she gave him those long, smoldering glances from beneath lowered eyelids. She touched him all the time. A stroke on the arm, a pat on the cheek. She threaded her arm through his and walked close enough beside him that he swore he felt her body heat pouring into his, making the fires inside burn even brighter.

  He was living in a constant state of hunger. His nerves were frayed and his control was slipping. A few more days with her and he'd throw all of his high-minded intentions out the window and toss her onto the nearest bed. All that kept him strong was the knowledge that to make love to her again would only make things worse. As it was, his heart was ragged from the knowledge that he'd be leaving her soon. That their lives would probably never again connect. That these few dwindling days with her were all that he would ever have.

  And as he struggled to keep his passion in check, he fed his brain with images of her, so that years from now he'd be able to pull them out, like pictures from a photo album. He told himself that one day he'd be able to remember her without the pain of losing her. But even he didn't believe that.

  They traipsed through the Smithsonian, strolled the streets of Williamsburg, Virginia, and visited Ford's theater. They went on a White House tour, saw Congress and the Senate, and now today they were at the mall.

  Grassy hills were filled with tourists, snapping pictures of each other and buying stupid souvenirs at the stands plopped along the greenbelt like squatting bugs in the road.

  Hand in hand they passed the POW/MIA booth and when his step faltered slightly, Travis felt her hand tighten around his in silent support. Farther along the path, surrounded by leafy trees, stood The Wall. Just a scrape of stone etched into a rise in the ground with thousands of names scrolled across it, the Vietnam memorial was simple yet powerful. At the Korean War memorial, though, Travis stopped dead.

  His gaze locked on the small squad of soldiers, frozen in time. Lisa's hand in his was warm, alive and he welcomed her strength as he studied the faces of the statues. Young men, eyes alert for trouble, they moved through a marsh, weapons ready. Behind them a gray granite wall was etched with hundreds of faces, giving the impression of ghosts ready to step out from beyond whatever veil separated them from this world.

  Travis's jaw clenched. Every professional soldier felt a kinship with those still missing. Like an empty chair at a dinner table, their absence was never forgotten. Silently he said a brief prayer for the lost men and women who had never come home—then took another moment to be grateful that he had. He looked at Lisa then, standing so close, and found her gaze fixed on him. Understanding and compassion shone in her eyes, and his heart swelled painfully in his chest.

  "You're really something, princess," he whispered, knowing it wasn't enough. But how did you find the words to tell a woman how much she meant to you when at the same time you were trying to distance yourself from her?

  She leaned into him, her shoulder-length blond hair lifting in the soft wind. "It's not so hard to understand what you would be thinking right now."

  "It's this place," he said, tearing his gaze from hers long enough to sweep the surrounding area. "It's good to see it. To see all the people here. To know that no one's been forgotten." It was more, of course. Monuments to the fallen, remembrances of past bravery, made him proud to be who and what he was. And knowing she, too, was proud, touched him.

  "You won't be forgotten, either," she said, and the tone of her voice drew his gaze back to her. "Not by me. Not ever."

  Before he could think of a response, she let go of his hand and started walking. Spring sunshine fell across her like a blessing. Her white slacks and red, long-sleeved shirt looked fresh and bright. Her blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, and the sway of her hips tightened his body and stole his breath.

  This was nuts and he knew it.

  They'd been together for days now. And every night, when he was lying alone in his bed, in that empty hotel room, he told himself to leave town. To get out while he still could. Yet every morning he waited for her, looking forward to his first glimpse of her. How was he going to live without her? How would he face the coming years knowing that he wouldn't be able to look into those eyes of hers, hear her laugh or feel her touch?

  He was a damn fool for staying around as long as he had, and it wasn't getting any easier. If he had any sense at all, he'd hop the first plane to Texas, spend some time with the family, then rejoin his squad. Face the next mission.

  But even as he thought it, he knew none of that would be enough to help him forget Lisa Chambers.

  * * *

  Two days later Lisa moved through the crowd but kept her gaze on Travis. Her father's house was filled with the rich and mighty, gathered together for a formal dinner party in Travis's honor. Tuxedos, designer gowns and enough jewelry to give a cat burglar a heart attack crowded the room, but she saw only one man. Wearing his dress blue uniform, Travis Hawks stood out from the rest of the people like an eagle in the midst of a flock of pigeons. Though obviously uncomfortable in his surroundings, he stood tall and gorgeous, looking like a poster of For God and Country. While the men around him discussed financial statements and tax shelters, he quietly stole the attention of every female in the room.

  And she was no exception. Smiling at the familiar faces she passed, she nodded appropriately at all the right times, mouthed a few pleasantries and all the time concentrated on keeping her heart from breaking. She hadn't been able to reach him. Despite what she knew they shared, Travis was going to leave. She sensed it in him. Knew their time was almost over … and couldn't come up with a plan to stop him.

  "Oh, Lisa," a female voice cooed, "you simply must tell me everything about that gorgeous man."

  She glanced at Serena Hathaway, forced a smile and resumed her role as hostess.

  Travis didn't know how they all stood it. He'd never been so bored in his life. These people, standing around pretending to be interested in whatever anyone else was saying, made mingling an art form. He felt as out of place as a thief in church. But Lisa, he told himself, fitted right in here. This was her world, and it couldn't have been explained any more clearly to him.

  She looked beautiful, of course, in a forest-green, floor-length dress that clung to her slim figure with a lover's caress. Her hair was swept up on top of her head and held in place by a clip with diamonds. More sparklers winked at her ears, and he was willing to guess the diamond necklace she wore cost more than he'd make in his entire career.

  Yep. As much as he hated being here, it was a good thing he'd come. Seeing Lisa in her element, he realized just how far out of his reach she really was. Now maybe he could make his heart believe it.

  "Ah, Travis," her father said, coming up behind him and slapping one arm around his shoulder, "you don't mind if I call you Travis, I hope."

  "No, sir," he said, and noted that though the man was talking to him, his gaze was shifting past him to others in the room.

  "I'd like a word with you in my study."

  Nodding, Travis followed him, relieved to have a distraction from his thoughts of Lisa, even if only for a minute. He stepped into a distinctly masculine room filled with bookshelves. Maroon leather chairs crouched before a now-cold fireplace, and crystal bottles of amber liquor glistened from the top of a polished bar. The smell of cigar smoke lingered here, and even as he had that thought, Alan Chambers stepped behind a wide, mahogany desk, lit a cigar and offered one to him.

  "No, thank you."

  The other man puffed a bit, sighed, then walked over and sat down in one of the chairs, indicating Travis should join him.

  He studied his cigar for a second, then said, "I wanted to thank you again personally for everything you did for my daughter."

  "Not necessary, sir," Travis told him. "I was just doing my job."

  "Of course. But still, it must have been difficult dealing with a woman so…" He let the sentence just hang the
re, as if he couldn't find the proper word to end it.

  Annoyed, Travis supplied, "Brave?"

  Chambers blinked, then laughed shortly. "Well now, there's a word not often used to describe my little girl."

  Irritation shot through him, but he tamped it down. After all, this was Lisa's father.

  "Now," the man went on, "I'm the first to admit that my girl's the woman to call if you want an affair handled correctly. But Lisa? In a desert? No, no. If not for you, well, I wouldn't like to think what might have happened."

  Remembering her tenacity, her sheer will, Travis said firmly, "She would have found a way to survive."

  The man actually chuckled again. And this time Travis took offense.

  "Mr. Chambers, sir, I have to say you don't know a thing about that woman."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "It's her pardon you ought to be begging. That's a hell of a woman out there, and she deserves better from her own father."

  "Now see here…"

  "No, sir," Travis said, standing up, "I see plenty. I see a man so wrapped up in making his next million he doesn't see what's right under his nose. A daughter to be proud of. To love."

  "Who the hell do you think you are, Marine?"

  "I know who I am, Mr. Chambers," Travis said through clenched teeth. "And I know who Lisa is. It's you I can't figure out."

  The older man rose from his chair, but was still forced to look up to meet Travis's gaze. Anger flashed briefly in Alan Chambers's eyes. "It's been a long time since anyone's spoken to me like that."

  "Then maybe it's time, sir," Travis said, refusing to back down on this one. He'd seen Lisa at her worst, and he was willing to bet that she'd done a damn sight better in that desert than her father would have in the same situation. "Lisa's strong and capable and smart."

  "Is that right?"

  "Damn straight. I'm not saying she's perfect. She's got a hard head and a temper to match. But she made me proud out in that desert. And you should be proud of her, too."