Beginning with You (20 page)

The first sob caught her off guard. Miserably, she looked at herself in the mirror. The face that stared back at her wasn’t the Rook she knew. There was such devastation in her eyes. The second sob came, and Rook was powerless to halt the building storm about to break within her. Tears jammed into her eyes and she buried her face in one hand, letting the torment run through her.

Jim heard Rook’s weeping. Earlier, he’d taken a shower and put on his pajama bottoms. Too upset to sleep, he was in the den reading over some business contracts when he heard her begin to cry. He hurried down the hall, opening the bathroom door. His heart wrenched. Rook leaned sobbing against the vanity. The pink towel was pressed against her breasts, pooling around her thighs, her naked back gleaming beneath the lights.

“Rook…” he whispered hoarsely, going over, gathering her limp, shaking form into his arms.

“Oh, Jim…” She wept, looking up at him. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong. All of a sudden I felt the numbness go away and I started shaking and crying uncontrollably.”

He realized the traumatic emotional events had finally broken even Rook’s stubborn reserves. “Sshh, it’s all right, honey. You’re just having a good old-fashioned letdown.” In one easy motion, Jim lifted Rook into his arms. Like a hurt child, she collapsed against him, head tucked beneath his jaw, arm moving around his neck. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just keep crying….” And he carried her across the hall to her bedroom. The bed stand lamp cast a small circle of light into the lavender room. Depositing her on the bed, Jim swung himself over to Rook’s side and pulled her into his arms.

“Let it go,” he coaxed, caressing her damp back with his hand. Her flesh was firm and pliant beneath his fingers. He held Rook tightly against him, feeling each sob rack through her like a brutal ocean wave pounding against the beach. Words started to flow from him—words meant to soothe and heal her—as he kissed her temple, cheek and finally her mouth. Jim tasted the salt of her tears, evidence of the incredible pain that she’d borne so valiantly. The instant her lips molded to his, a groan tore through him, dissolving all his carefully monitored control.

Blindly, Rook absorbed the strength of Jim’s mouth. She felt directionless, in a pit of nothing but pain and loss. She clung to him, focusing on his arms around her naked form, his callused hands arousing far greater needs within her. Her breath became chaotic as she unconsciously revolved away from all the agony within her and moved toward the sunlight of his strength and tenderness.

Her fingers slid along the expanse of his chest, and her mouth hungrily matched his. The fresh scent of her recently washed hair and the taste of her skin as he ran his tongue across her bare shoulder culminated in a fiery splendor of fragrance coupled with texture. Pulling the towel from between them, he pressed her length against him and felt her tremble violently as they met and molded together.

“Jim,” she whispered raggedly, finding his mouth.

“Are you protected?” he rasped, gazing deep into her eyes.

Rook nodded. “Yes, it’s all right….”

He removed his pajamas. His urgency mounted. Each time he kissed her she wildly returned his ardor, her body pressed pliantly beneath his. Her long, curved thighs opened and he felt her fingers dig deeply into his shoulders, silently begging him to complete the union.

As Jim’s hand slid beneath her hips, lifting her, Rook abandoned herself to him. His callused fingers opened her more, grazing her wet entrance. She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand, wanting him. She was so ready for him.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, leaning forward, his lips capturing her nipple, suckling her.

Rook cried out, pleasure rolling through her, womb contracting, aching, needing Jim.

He released the nipple, taking her lips, cherishing her and used his knee to open her more. It was so easy to kneel between her damp thighs, his hands sliding over her flared hips, his gaze locked on her sultry eyes burning with arousal.

Jim knew Rook hadn’t had a sexual partner in years. He moved to her entrance, bathed in the sweet, thick liquid telling him she was more than ready for him to enter her. Watching her closely, he eased into her, barely.

Rook’s breath hitched. There was burning, stretching and then pleasure moments later. Moaning, she encouraged him, moving her hips upward, asking silently for him to move deeper within her. He thrust deeper, thrusting slowly, repeatedly, into her. A cry slipped from her parted lips as she absorbed his masculine strength, flowing rhythmically into each powerful thrust, burning away all the darkness that had claimed her soul.

Her body slid wetly against his as they became two animals locked in a primal coupling that tore away the veneer of civilization and carefully shielded emotions. Rook lost herself within the ever-spinning vortex of taste, smell of Jim, drowning in the fire growing quickly within her. A building pressure quickened deep within her, and she whimpered, sensing that the sunlight enveloping her was becoming brighter, more blinding. Fingers sinking into Jim’s bunched shoulder muscles, she cried out, stiffening within his arms as that pressure became a volcanic release of scalding heat throbbing rhythmically through her like molten sunlight. She felt him tense, growl and grip her hips as he thrust and tensed. She felt a flowing in a river of scorching heat between their fused bodies.

Gasping for breath, Jim rested heavily upon Rook in the seconds after his own release within her. She lay limp beneath him, and he lifted off her and eased to one side, gathering her against him. He reached over, shutting off the light. Sinking against the pillows, he buried his face in her fragrant hair. He almost told her he loved her, but something warned him not to—not yet. Instead, Jim simply held her, smoothing the perspiration from her back and shoulders.

Exhaustion stalked Rook as she lay limply against him. It was impossible to talk, only feel. His pounding heart sounded like a sledgehammer beneath her ear as she nestled her cheek against the wiry texture of the hair on his chest.
Sleep…I have to sleep
….

And Rook spiraled into darkness.

Rook jerked awake. She froze when she realized Jim lay at her side, his arm draped across her hip, still sleeping. What had she done? Why? Panic set in as she lay there in the dawn light. Gradually, the events of the last twenty-four hours sank into Rook. Her heart began a painful pounding in her breast. It was six o’clock.

She closed her eyes, turmoil mixing with her newly awakened feelings. My God, what had she done? They’d made wild, hungry love. Last night, Rook had felt as if she were drowning in a morass of hellish feelings. The grief she felt over the death of her mother had been triggered by Paula’s death and Tag’s reaction. Noah’s predicament had forced her to realize that she didn’t hate him and that there was still love that bound them to each other.

Groaning inwardly, Rook carefully sat up. She looked down. Jim’s face was shadowed by his beard, and his hair was tousled. He looked boyish. Panic began to eat away at Rook as she got up, moving quietly about the room to pick up her belongings. How could she face Jim? What would he say about last night? Something kept telling her to run from him.

Torn, Rook hesitated at the open door to the bedroom. The dawn cast gray shadows about the room. Memories of her other two affairs smashed back into her barely functioning mind. They had been swift, impersonal couplings designed to satisfy the man, not her. Last night had been different. Something beautiful had blossomed and then been released within her when she had allowed Jim to love her.

Unable to sort through everything, Rook left to take a shower and then dress. Realizing she needed a ride to work, she called a taxi. Sitting at the table, she wrote Jim a note and placed it on the drain board, next to the coffeemaker. Then Rook hurried out the front door, the need to escape overwhelming her.

At five-thirty in the morning Ward had been called and told Paula Welsh had died. He stared down at the note on his desk from the senior duty officer on watch that said the same thing. Tag Welsh had requested he say a few words at her funeral, which would take place in three days. Rubbing his recently shaved face, Ward took a deep breath. There was a lot to do—not only for the funeral, but for Tag, as well. He was about to buzz his secretary when Gil Logan appeared at his door and knocked softly.

“Gil. Come in.” Ward saw the dark circles beneath the pilot’s eyes. Had he slept at all?

“Captain, I just wanted to let you know that Paula Welsh died last night. With everything up in the air, I didn’t know if Tag had called you yet.”

Ward lifted the note from the desk. “Yes, I was called earlier. Thanks, Gil.”

Fighting bone-deep exhaustion, Gil murmured, “Rook and I arrived there right after Paula died. We stayed with Tag until about four this morning. The doctor gave him some tranquilizers.” He looked down at his watch. “He said Tag would probably sleep until noon today.”

Ward critically assessed his pilot. “You haven’t had much sleep yourself.”

“No, sir.”

“I understand.” That meant Rook Caldwell was in equally bad shape this morning. Neither would be of any use to the investigation effort, in their condition. “I want you and Rook to go home right now and get some decent sleep.”

Gil couldn’t hide his surprise. The other CO hadn’t cared if anyone lived or died. “Sir?”

“I said, get out of here. I need both of you for this investigation, but awake and alert. Be back here by 1700 today. By that time we’ll have put more together, and you two can take over at that point.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more thing, Gil. Does Tag have anyone to support him through all this?”

“The people from the local hospice are helping him, sir. There’s a lady there now, a Mrs. Collins, who’s staying over at the house. She’s coordinating all the funeral arrangements the way Paula wanted them.”

“Good.” Ward would make a point of going over to see Tag later today. “Is there anything else we can do from our end?”

“I’m sure Chaplain Moore needs to be notified.”

“I’ll do it. How’s Tag doing?”

Gil shrugged, “He broke down last night when Rook and I were there. Right now, he’s just kind of numb and going through the motions.”

“I see.”

“If we didn’t have this damn investigation cranking up,” Gil said, “I would have liked to take some time off to be with him until he’s past this funeral, sir.”

“Is he close to Rook, too?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ward searched his mind for a way around all the problems. “I’ll make it known to the investigators that you’ll be dividing your time, as you see fit, between them and helping Tag during this period.”

Gil’s eyes widened. “Do you think they’ll understand, sir?”

Ward nodded, his, mouth thinning. “I’ll get some temporary personnel in here from Seattle. Also, if Rook feels up to it and wants to volunteer, she can help Tag when you aren’t available.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Notify Rook about all this, will you? And tell her I don’t want to see her face in the office when I go down there.”

Logan wanted to smile but was simply too exhausted to do much of anything. “Yes, sir. I’ll call her right now.”

Gil found Rook in her office with a cup of coffee in hand.

Next door, he saw Malone hard at work. He stuck his head in the door. “Hey.”

Rook looked dully around. “God, Gil, you look terrible.”

He grinned tiredly. “Want to place a bet on which of us looks worse?”

“No.”

“Smart lady. Listen, the captain has ordered us to go home. He found out we were up with Tag until four-thirty. Said to show up here at five tonight. How’s that sound?”

“Too good to be true,” Rook murmured.

“Stuart’s turning out to be a pretty good dude, after all. At least the man has some humaneness in his bones. He’s going to tell these commanders that we’ll be splitting our time for the next three days between our office duties and helping Tag. That is, if you want to help?”

Rook brightened considerably and nodded. “You bet I do.”

Gil gave her a warm look, filled with pride. “Welcome to the Coast Guard, Rook. You’re now, officially, a Coastie.”

She tilted her head, trying to tease him. Right now, she needed a smile from someone. “What brought this on?”

He pursed his lips. “You’re acting like one,” he explained. “Coasties stick together. We’re family. You proved that last night by going over there to help Tag when you didn’t have to.”

Tears swam in Rook’s eyes. Embarrassed by how easily her emotions were touched, she wiped them away and picked up her purse. “Thanks, Gil. You really know how to say the right thing at the right time.”

No
, Gil thought,
I don’t. At least, according to Eve, I never did
. He forced a smile for Rook’s benefit, realizing that she was suffering heavily from the strain of her brother’s investigation, on top of Tag’s problems. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We’re both running on reserves.”

“My car is at my apartment. Can you give me a lift home?”

“Sure. Come on.”

On the way to the car, Rook asked, “Did you ever call your wife? I remember asking you about that after we got Tag settled down.”

The day was cool and cloudy, typical straits weather. Gil watched a couple of seagulls sail overhead toward the hangar. “Seems like this is the time for new beginnings for everyone.”

Slowing her pace, Rook gave him a guarded look. “Beginnings? What are you talking about?”

Gil stopped at his car, digging for the keys in his jacket pocket. “I walked out on Eve last night after I got home. As soon as Paula’s funeral is out of the way, I intend to file for divorce.”

Automatically, Rook placed her hand on Gil’s arm. He looked as lost as she felt inside. “I know how much you wanted to save the marriage.”

He grimaced. “Yeah.” Rubbing his face tiredly, Gil muttered, “I don’t know, Rook. Something’s screwed up inside me. I can’t figure out what it is. Why can’t I save my marriage? My father was in the Coast Guard. I’m in the Coast Guard. It’s a family tradition. If my folks kept their marriage together through the pressures of this business of ours, I should be able to.”