He sat down in the comfortable chair that sat at right angles to the couch. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, slightly surprised at himself. He somehow expected that breaking their engagement would have miraculously broken the compelling attraction that had always existed between them. It hadn’t, though. He felt the familiar sense of urgency and expectancy, a taut, demanding urge to bridge the gap between them. His fingers remembered silky hair slipping through his hands and cascading over his chest, the delicate texture of skin on skin, and the lush curve of her body from hips to chest.
“How’s the admiral business?” Her voice, casually friendly, contained no hint that she was remembering him in the same way. He forced himself back to reality, abandoning the memories almost regretfully.
“Busy. I haven’t flown in months. And ACN — you’re still their star, from what we see out here,” he said, matching her conversational tone. Just two old friends who’d once been something more, catching up on old times, he decided. He decided to relax. He could do this — he could.
“I have my moments with them. It’s a full-time commitment still.” Her eyes met his, and he felt her carefully assess his mood. Damn, he’d almost forgotten how she always could seem to read his thoughts!
Despite his best intentions, he felt the first tinges of a flush creep up from his neck toward his cheeks and heard a voice that sounded exactly like his own ask, “That answers my question, then. I was wondering if there were any other reason for you taking this assignment.”
Her answer came quickly, as though she’d rehearsed an answer. “Like getting a chance to see you? That was part of it, I admit. I’ll never turn down that opportunity.”
“You already did,” he said. He heard the anger and hurt in his voice and swore silently. “I turned down marriage and commitment, not you. Oh, Stoney, we’ve been through this a thousand times! It never would have worked! My schedule with ACN keeps me on the road at least half of the year. Between trips, I’m either trying to recover from jet lag or fighting off the latest foreign bug I’ve caught.”
“Alone.” It was almost a question.
“Alone, yes. But not obsessed with wondering when the chaplain is going to knock on my door and tell me I’m a widow. Stoney, the places you go, the flying, the killing, what you do for a living — it’s too much. I could deal with the flying, if it were for a civilian airliner, but not the continual combat. Every time some pissant little spot on the globe decides to act out its fantasies of world domination, you’re in the middle of it. I’d never be able to do what I do for worrying about you.”
“And you don’t worry now?”
“You know I do. But for the most part, I simply try to forget you exist. But pass up the chance to see you again — no, I couldn’t do that.”
It was his turn to study her. The brilliant green eyes, sleek dark hair — a few faint lines had crept up around the corners of her eyes since the last time they’d met. Otherwise, she could have been the same young reporter he’d first met and fallen in love with back when he was a lieutenant commander.
“I almost wish you had,” he said finally.
The buzz of his telephone saved him from having to explain. He picked it up and said, “Admiral.”
“Admiral, sorry to bother you. I thought you’d want to know that the Vincennes is setting flight quarters to launch her helo. You asked their CO to see you this afternoon, I believe.”
Tombstone was faintly grateful to the cruiser CO for giving him a graceful way to terminate his visit. “Thank you, COS. I’ll be right out.”
He replaced the receiver in its cradle and remained standing next to his desk. “Pamela, it’s been good to see you again. I won’t deny that. But knowing how things stand between us, I think you’ll understand if I don’t spend too much time with YOU.”
He saw her face go stiff and wondered if a similar trick of expressions had been what’d earned him his call sign, Tombstone. “I understand completely, Admiral. You’re not willing to settle for what I can offer. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?” She picked up her cup and walked to the door, her stiff back stilling the sway of her hips to a gentle twitch.
“I hope I can,” he said softly as he watched her go.
Captain Killington, Commanding Officer of the USS Vincennes, arrived thirty minutes later. Tombstone stayed seated at his desk as COS showed the man into his office. He motioned to a chair in front of his desk.
As the surface warfare officer settled into the sturdy Navy chair, Tombstone looked him over carefully, searching for the key to the man’s character. Their professional paths had crossed several times, but Tombstone knew little about the man personally. The Aegis CO had assumed command of Vincennes only two months before the deployment, when the prior Commanding Officer suffered a stroke at sea one night. As a result, he’d missed most of the workup and exercise schedule that would have given Tombstone a chance to assess the man.
Captain Killington was several inches shorter than Tombstone, with a solid, massive build. His hair was light brown, with no trace of gray or thinning, carefully trimmed and brushed back from his face. His eyes were an almost colorless shade of brown, one that would either be called hazel or warm spit.
According to his professional reputation, he was an aggressive operator, one who clearly envisioned stars on his collar in the not-too-distant future. Most of his shore-duty tours had been in DC rather than in the Fleet. The other surface warfare officers regarded him as a politician who believed himself to be a warrior.
Tombstone held out his hand, and Captain Killington took it firmly. For a moment, Tombstone wondered whether the man would try to apply hard pressure and make him wince. Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid around the man who signed his fitness reports, and who would make recommendations that might affect whether or not he would eventually wear stars.
“Thanks for coming over on short notice, Captain,” Tombstone said.
“My pleasure, Admiral. I was prepared for the request.” Killington smiled smugly and passed a manila folder he carried.
“Oh, really?” For a moment, Tombstone felt off-balance. “And why was that?”
“Well, it was obvious to me, Admiral, based on your last orders. Conducting these FON ops is going to take us to the edge of Vietnamese territorial waters. I knew you’d want to know what steps we were taking, what precautions we’d recommend in constrained waters. That’s why I had my staff-“
You idiot, you don’t have a staff! I have a staff — you have your normal complement of department heads and divisions officers, Tombstone thought.
“-prepare these charts. Of course, we’re prepared to address any obvious contingencies as well.”
“I see. And by contingencies, you mean …?”
The Aegis CO leaned forward in his chair, his voice dropping lower. “We’re going to be in mighty close, Admiral. We could be closer.”
“Closer than twelve miles?”
“Not officially.”
“I see,” Tombstone said for the second time.
Now I understand why I heard my uncle use that phrase so often. Back when he sat in this chair, he must have learned it was a good way to buy time when you’re trying to deal with an idiot! He could have told me that when he came to my change of command. Just a little family admiral secret, passed down from the man who is now Seventh Fleet to his favorite nephew.
“I’m glad you came prepared, Captain. That will make this entire meeting more fruitful. May I see your briefing charts?” Tombstone held out his hand.
“I can explain each one if-“
“Just the charts, if you please.”