Rules of Engagement (1991) (36 page)

He reached for her hand. "Let's go to my room and have our drinks delivered."

Leigh Ann grew cautious. "Brad, I have to ask you a question, and I trust that you will be honest."

He released her hand and smiled. "Are you implying that I haven't been honest?"

"Brad, I'm serious."

"I can see that. What's the question?"

Leigh Ann folded her hands together, anticipating the worst. "Did you invite me here for the sole purpose of taking me to bed?"

Brad tried to hide his shock with characteristic humor. "Well, that wasn't the sole reason."

He immediately saw that his answer had not been well received. Tears glistened in Leigh Ann's eyes as she struggled to maintain her composure. "Leigh Ann, I'm sorry. I was only kidding."

The silence gnawed at Brad's conscience. "Look, I apologize, but allow me to express what I think, and how I feel."

She remained quiet, staring at her napkin.

"You and your father obviously had quite a conversation before you left. Did he convince you that that was my primary goal--to get his daughter in bed?"

Leigh Ann looked up. "We had a terrible argument," her mouth quivered, "and he forbade me to . . . to meet you here."

Brad glanced at the nearby couples. "Do you mind," he asked, feeling a rising anger, "if we go into the bar and find a quiet corner?"

Leigh Ann nodded yes and rose before Brad could reach her chair.

Brad sipped his scotch and soda, oblivious to the simulated tropical rainstorm pelting the lagoon in the bar.

"Leigh Ann, I can't do anything about your broken engagement, and your father has apparently categorized me as a . . . as being unsuitable for his daughter."

She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. "My Dad is concerned about me. He loves me, and he doesn't want to see me get hurt again."

Exasperated, Brad ordered another scotch. "What do you think, Leigh Ann? At some point in your life, you're going to have to make your own decisions. Your father isn't going--"

"I made a decision, and defied my father to see you. I also reminded him that he was the one who introduced me to the medical student who cheated on me during our engagement."

"Okay," he replied in a low voice. "What exactly does your father have against me?"

Leigh Ann sipped her drink before answering. "In his mind, you're the image of the wild, unstable, carousing playboy. A gir
l i
n every port, and so on. He just doesn't want me to become involved, then get hurt again."

Brad sat back in awe. "With respect to your father, we can't all be sedate and reserved doctors who go to the country club on Saturday night and play golf every Wednesday."

Her temper flared. "I will not listen to you run down my father."

"Time out," Brad said evenly. "I'm not running down your father. What I said is a fact. We can't all be just like your father. Some of us have to stand in harm's way, in order to protect his freedoms and life-style."

"Brad," she said with conviction, "he wants me to be happy, that's all."

Composing his thoughts, Brad glanced at the sultry lagoon, then back to Leigh Ann. "What's the real reason for his animosity toward me? Is my social level not good enough, being the rowdy, drunken military gypsy that I am?"

"Please, Brad, don't be defensive. That doesn't become you." He finished the last of his drink. "What's the reason he doesn't want us to be together?"

"Brad, you're in the military, and you hold quite different views from my father."

"You're right," he replied, signaling for another scotch. "That's my job. I curse, drink, and shoot people for a living."

"That's not my Dad's primary concern. He just cares about my welfare."

Brad exhaled sharply. "What's his primary concern? That I'm an abominable heathen--a warmonger?"

"No," Leigh Ann answered in a quiet voice. "He doesn't want me to fall in love with someone who has a high risk of being killed."

"And," Brad replied icily, "making you a widow before you're twenty-five. Right?"

"That's correct."

"On that point, your father is right. But life is full of risks, and rewards."

"Brad, I am not sure either that I am ready for that risk. Dad is right, and I don't think you have any idea how I feel. You just want what you want." Leigh Ann's lip trembled. "I'm going to my room."

He accepted his fresh drink. "I'll walk you."

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

Brad rose when she reached for her evening bag. "Leigh Ann, contrary to what your father thinks, life is not tied in a neat little package. Sometimes, we have to roll the dice."

"I'll take that under consideration," she said, then turned and walked away. Leigh Ann felt confused and angry. Brad's temper and passion scared her.

Chapter
32.

Attired in civilian clothes, Harry Hutton, Jon O'Meara, and Mario Russo saluted and walked down the gangplank to the carrier pier. They had been granted three days off to go sight-seeing and souvenir hunting.

O'Meara and Russo had talked Harry into taking a train excursion to visit outlying cities. Jon wanted to see Kyoto, Japan's ancient capital; Mario was determined to explore Kobe and sample the distinctive flavor of the highly praised Kobe beef.

The threesome had agreed to stay in Kyoto the first night. Jon had made arrangements for them to stay at a traditional Japanese inn known as a ryokan. Harry had been reluctant when O'Meara had explained that they would be sleeping on the floor in rooms without furniture. Harry had acquiesced when Mario explained about the bathhouses close to the ryokan. Harry had liked the idea of having young women bathe him.

Carrying their compact overnight bags, the three men walked to the taxi stand, then patiently waited in line for a cab. Watching the cabs come and go, Harry had occasional thoughts of Phuc Yen, but dismissed the reflections as needless worry. Along with his traveling companions, Harry Hutton had not the slightest inkling of the brewing maelstrom.

Brad listened to the Polynesian band and thought about Leigh Ann and her relationship with her father. He mentally kicked himself for not being more understanding and considerate to the woman he loved.

He shoved his half-finished drink across the table, paid his bill, then walked to the elevator. He wanted to apologize to Leigh Ann for getting angry, and set the record straight.

When the elevator stopped at his floor, Brad was startled to see Leigh Ann when the doors opened. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, stepping to the side. "I was on my way to talk to you."

Brad's hazel eyes smiled warmly, crinkling at the corners. "We think alike. I was heading for your room . . . to apologize."

"Brad, I'm the one who owes you an apology. I don't know what we were arguing about. I am here now and my father isn't. I have disobeyed him, so I really have made my decision."

He felt a surge of desire sweep through him. "Please, no apologies. Leigh Ann, I've been thinking about everything you told me."

She gave him a tiny smile. "Would you like to go to my room?" "Sure, if you feel comfortable."

Leigh Ann slipped her hand through the crook of Brad's arm, squeezing him affectionately."I've never felt more comfortable."

He gently pulled her closer to his side as they walked to their adjoining rooms. "I may be wrong, but I believe that your father, with all good intentions, is overcompensating where you're concerned."

Leigh Ann nodded. "He is, because of the way Tyler treated me."

"You're right," Brad responded as they reached the door to Leigh Ann's room. "He is trying to make sure that you fall in love with the perfect mate." She inserted the key and allowed Brad to open the door.

He followed Leigh Ann through the entrance and closed the door. Brad was surprised to see a silver champagne bucket sitting on the coffee table. "When did you arrange to have the champagne sent up?"

Turning to him, Leigh Ann reached down to clasp both of his hands. She wanted to pull him to her, but hesitated for a moment. "I asked room service to deliver it," she smiled, linking his arms behind her back, "while we were at dinner."

Brad felt her body pressing against him as she raised her arms and encircled his neck. With a rush, repressed emotions were released as their lips met in a fervent hunger.

After what seemed like minutes, they separated to catch their breath. Leigh Ann gently cupped Brad's face in her hands. "I've missed you, darling . . . more than I can tell you."

He held Leigh Ann to his chest, resting her head next to his neck. A shudder ran through him. "I've been thinking about you every waking moment since Hawaii."

Leigh Ann brushed his neck and leaned back, looking up at the tanned face and sincere eyes. "What have you been thinking about me?"

Reaching for her shoulders, Brad's stare riveted Leigh Ann. "That I love you," he admitted hoarsely and drew her lips to his in a gentle, passionate kiss.

Leigh Ann responded with a crushing intensity that was intoxicating. She broke off their kiss and held him close. "I love you, too." She trembled and gazed into his eyes. "God, how I love you . . . Brad Austin."

He spoke with a huskiness in his voice. "Why don't I open the champagne," he breathed, "while you make yourself comfortable?"

Filled with longing, Leigh Ann smiled and slipped from his arms. "I'll only be a minute."

Brad tried unsuccessfully to collect himself while Leigh Ann stepped into the bedroom. He carefully opened the chilled bottle of champagne and turned out the lights on each side of the window. Looking across the moonlit bay, Brad felt a sensation that he had never experienced before. He was totally consumed, enraptured by his love for Leigh Ann Ladasau.

Staring blankly at the boat lights moving across the water, Brad sensed Leigh Ann's presence. He turned slightly as she approached him wearing only her kimono. She looked like a goddess in the soft light.

Brad stepped to the table and poured two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Leigh Ann. Placing his arm around her waist, Brad inhaled and raised his glass. "To us . . . and to our love."

They drank the toast and Leigh Ann set down her glass, turning to embrace Brad. "Hold me, darling," she murmured in a soft, wistful voice. "Please don't leave me tonight."

Brad unsteadily placed his glass down and scooped her into his arms. "I'll hold you all night," he said thickly as he carried her into the bedroom.

Dan Bailey sat down in Jack Carella's stateroom. He had just returned from a meeting with the commanding officer of the other Phantom squadron on the carrier. An extreme weariness from prolonged stress swept over him. He rotated his head from side to side, then moved it up and down in an attempt to loosen his tense neck muscles.

"What did Commander Rooney have to say?" Jocko Carella asked, neatly stacking his pile of paperwork on the side of his desk.

Bailey ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper crewcut. He looked at his acting executive officer and moved his head in a wide arc. "He was uncomfortable, and didn't even want to discuss the subject. I've known him for a long time, and he hasn't changed. He'd rather avoid problems than investigate them."

Carella gave him a curious look. "I don't know him that well, but you'd think he would want to get to the bottom of the matter."

"Rooney has always been a keen political player who shies away from anything that might splatter mud on his dress whites."

The XO shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the words political player.

"He said," Bailey continued, looking tired and grim, "that he wanted to keep his distance from the rumors until the accusations are proved, or dismissed."

Carella bit his lip thoughtfully. "Has he talked to the pilots who were involved in the strike?"

Bailey shook his head slowly.

"That's incredible," Carella responded, looking at the neatly penned notes on his desk pad. He had written three pages when he and the CO had first talked about the incident at Phuc Yen.

Dan Bailey examined the framed painting on the bulkhead next to Carella. The print showcased the aircraft carrier USS Hornet at the Battle of Santa Cruz. "His caution is directly proportional to his rank. He doesn't want any blemishes to impede his career."

"Skipper," Carella ventured, remembering what the CO had said in the passageway, "what do you think happened, if anything?"

Bailey glanced at the picture of the carrier again before looking directly at his XO. "I don't know. With Austin somewhere in California and the other guys out roaming the countryside, we're just going to have to wait until CAG and the admiral return."

Carella darted a look at his first page of notes. He had been convinced from the outset of their reconstruction of the events that Brad Austin had been the culprit. His intuition presupposed that the accusations were true.

"Sir, can't we contact Austin, and go ahead and get his statement?"

Bailey heaved a sigh. "No, because I allowed him to go without leaving an address, since we yanked him back from Hawaii. I'll get my ass fried for that if this can of worms turns out to be on the level."