"What's wrong?" Kelly asked once he'd replaced the receiver.
"How do you know that anything's wrong?"
"Because you've got that look again."
Royce didn't know what she was talking about, and frankly he wasn't sure he cared to.
His daughter, however, was bent on telling him. "It's hard to explain," Kelly added on a thoughtful note. "It's a look you get when you're mad and trying not to show it. Your ears get red on the top and your mouth goes like this." She scrunched up her lips like an old prune.
"I never look like that," Royce told her with more than a suggestion of impatience.
"If you say so."
At least she was smart enough to know when not to argue with him, look or not. For that, Royce could be grateful.
He was halfway back to his room when he decided he might as well let Kelly know. "Catherine's coming along with me."
"She is?" Kelly sounded downright thrilled. "How come?"
"There's been a complaint of sexual harassment on board the Venture that she's going to investigate. Captain Garland felt it made sense to send us both up at the same time."
"He is the captain," the ten-year-old said with an air of great wisdom.
If Kelly thought to comfort him, she'd failed. Miserably.
It wasn't until they were both aboard the plane that Royce spoke to Catherine. She was sitting in the seat next to him, but he'd done his damnedest to ignore her. Not that it had done any good. Not that it ever did, but he liked to pretend otherwise.
"How'd you arrange this?" he demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I didn't," she said, without looking up from the report she was reviewing. "I was ordered to accompany you." She made it sound as though she'd rather be anyplace else than sitting next to him.
Royce looked out the window, unexpectedly amused by her tart reply. Apparently she wasn't any more pleased about this than he was. Well that was par for the course as far as their relationship went.
"If it's any comfort to you I'll be away soon enough." There was a militant strain in her voice that challenged him.
Catherine was going away? It wasn't any comfort, in fact it was cause for alarm. "What do you mean?"
"I'll be attending my mother's wedding."
"I see." Royce hadn't seen the request yet, but he knew there wouldn't be any problem in granting her leave.
"Unfortunately that isn't going to help," he growled. The need to touch her, even in the smallest way, was so strong Royce couldn't fight it anymore. He moved his leg just enough so his calf could brush against hers. He nearly sighed in relief. Her skin felt silky and smooth, so smooth.
The movement, almost invisible to anyone else quickly captured Catherine's attention. She jerked her head up and frowned at him.
"Royce," she breathed, "what are you doing?"
"Looking for a way to get booted out of the Navy it seems."
She yanked her leg away, expelled a shuddering sigh and returned to the report she was reading. But Royce noticed that her hands were trembling.
Who was he kidding? If anyone was shaking it was he. It started that first afternoon on the track when Catherine had refused to stop running, and it hadn't lessened since.
Royce laid back his head and closed his eyes. He needed to think. He'd come a hair's space from making love to her in the front seat of a car. He was meeting her on dirt roads. Now he was reduced to trying to feel her up while on a military transport.
He was in bad shape. Worse than he thought. Only a desperate man would have pulled that trick. Which said a lot about his mental condition. This assignment was going to be a hell of a lot more difficult than he'd imagined.
That thought proved to be more prophetic than Royce ever dreamed. The first day into the inspection he was so angry he walked around in a red haze. He wasn't civil to be around. It was so bad, he didn't even like himself. And for what reason? Because Lieutenant Commander Masterson had taken an instant liking to Catherine. The man had made his interest in her known from the moment they'd stepped on board the Venture.
Royce was making notes when he inadvertently happened upon Masterson talking to Catherine in the narrow hallway. He didn't like the familiar way in which the young lieutenant commander was leaning toward her. Nor did he appreciate the way the other man was looking at her as though he couldn't wait to get her into his bed.
"Are you finished with your report?" he demanded of Catherine.
"Not yet." She looked surprised that he'd even ask since the account of the complaint wasn't due for several days after their return.
"Then I suggest you start work on it."
"Yes, sir." She started to walk past him when Royce turned on Masterson, his eyes narrowed into dark slits. He couldn't remember a time he'd wanted to take a man down more.
"Problems?" Masterson asked innocently enough.
"This isn't the Love Boat, Lieutenant Commander," Royce said as scathingly as he could. "Captain Garland didn't ask Lieutenant Commander Fredrickson to accompany me for your entertainment."
The other man's eyes widened at the verbal attack.
"I suggest you keep your hands to yourself."
"But he didn't..." Catherine intervened, until Royce turned on her, making sure his eyes were hard enough to effectively silence her. She had no business speaking to him. No business defending Masterson, and that infuriated him even more.
"You're both dismissed," he said harshly, and waited until they'd retreated in opposite directions. In the next twenty-four hours, Royce didn't say more than a handful of words to Catherine. In fact he was avoiding her. She was avoiding him, too. Like the plague. But then so was everyone else— not that he blamed them.
Royce was tired. Mentally and physically. But keyed up at the same time. Before heading off to bed, he decided to stop off in the galley for a cup of coffee. Caffeine sometimes helped to relax him.
He apparently wasn't the only one who needed something that night. Catherine sat at the table and glanced up when he appeared. She looked startled, as though she'd been caught doing something illegal.
"I'll leave," she said, slowly coming to her feet.
"No, stay," he returned crisply, walking over to the coffeepot.
"Is that an order?"
He had to think about it a moment. "Yes."
Her hands cupped the mug. Her gaze was centered on the steaming liquid as though something were about to leap out.
Royce poured himself a cup and sat down across from her. He didn't say anything for several moments, then decided now was as good a time as any to speak his mind. As bad a time as any for that matter. At least they were alone.
"I don't like the way Masterson's been looking at you," he admitted, frowning as he did so.
Catherine's head flew up so fast it was a wonder she didn't injure her neck.
"Lieutenant Commander Masterson?"
"Yes," he said roughly. He knew he sounded possessive, but he couldn't help himself. It had been eating at him from the moment they'd arrived. Mark Masterson had made a fool of himself over Catherine. Everyone had noticed. Certainly Catherine must have. Royce had even heard a couple of the men talking about the way Masterson had an eye for the ladies.
"You mean to say you've been acting like a...a..." Apparently she couldn't think of anything bad enough. "Like a moron because you're... jealous?" Her words were issued vehemently in a whisper.
"I have not been acting like a moron," he denied hotly, in the same low tones she used. "I have eyes."
"And what would you like me to do about it?"
Her words took Royce by surprise. He expected her to deny it, claim it was all in his head. He even thought she'd call him a fool for saying it. Okay, she'd called him a moron. That was close. What he hadn't anticipated was her acceptance of the problem.
"Well?" she demanded.
"What do I expect you to do about it?" he repeated. The answer came to him then, as profoundly as anything he'd ever felt. It was all so simple. It was all so complicated.
"Marrying me would settle it."
Chapter Eight
"You don't mean that," Catherine whispered, confident Royce's proposal had been prompted by a fit of jealous rage. She would never have guessed that Royce would be so insecure.
Sadly, Catherine couldn't deny that the lieutenant commander had gone out of his way to let her know he was interested. In what, she wasn't entirely sure. Mark Masterson had been more than attentive from the moment she and Royce had landed aboard the Venture. He hadn't done anything offensive, and under other circumstances Catherine might have been flattered. Certainly she'd done nothing to encourage his attention.
"The hell I don't mean it," Royce countered sharply, impatiently. His face was scowled in an intimidating frown that pleated his brow in thick folds.
"You don't need to shout at me."
Royce lowered his voice several decibels. "I am not yelling. Will you or won't you marry me?"
"I can't," she felt obliged to remind him. She was under his command, which was something he'd conveniently forgotten. Any relationship, other than one that involved Navy business, was strictly prohibited. He knew it. She knew it. But for pride's sake Royce had chosen to overlook the fact.
Slowly Royce stiffened, as though anticipating a body blow, as if he were unsure of her and her love. "Would you marry me if it were possible?"
"Probably."
"Probably," he repeated, his eyes rounding. It was as though she'd issued him the greatest insult of his life.
"Yes, probably," she returned just as heatedly. "If the proposal weren't issued on the tail end of a fit of jealousy and...and if I were convinced to the soles of my feet that you loved me."
"I love you." This, too, was discharged as if he were tallying points in a heated debate. "So what's your answer? Yes or no?"
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." He made it sound as if there shouldn't be anything to consider, as if he were asking her out to dinner, instead of a complicated relationship that would involve disrupting both their lives, and Kelly's, not to mention their careers.
"Why?" she charged. "So I can inform Masterson I'm an engaged woman?"
"Yes," Royce confirmed without pause. His hands were cupped around his coffee with enough force to shatter the ceramic mug.
"Then thanks, but no thanks." Battling righteousness, Catherine stood abruptly, prepared to leave the room. How dare Royce offer her marriage in an effort to salvage his precious male pride. The only reason he'd even suggested it was out of concern she might be attracted to Mark Masterson. The ironic part of all this was that Royce had only recently tried to arrange a date for her with Dan Parker. In the space of a few short weeks, he'd gone from one extreme to another. Catherine didn't know what to expect next.
"What do you mean no thanks?" Royce demanded, leaping to his feet with enough force to topple his chair. Somehow he managed to catch it before it crashed to the floor.
"I don't know how much plainer I can make it, Commander. The answer is no."
He looked positively stunned, as if she'd stepped forward and thrust a sword between his ribs. He'd been so sure of himself, so damned arrogant, as if it were a foregone conclusion she'd accept his offer of marriage without even needing to think it over. It hurt her pride that he'd proposed in such a callous manner with a complete lack of tenderness or romance.