Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) Page 15

  But how long? A week? A month? The whole cruise? Sky said there’d be a line waiting for her and Philip didn’t want her looking for someone else. He saw the way the guys drooled over her in the wardroom tonight. And these were supposed to be the gentlemen on board. He could only imagine what the crew had been saying on the mess decks, let alone the reviews from the goat locker—the chief’s quarters. He didn’t even want to know what those old salts were saying about her.

  He’d check with Sky tomorrow to see what the reaction had been up on the air wing. Any one of those flyboys would probably risk brig time for a night with Hallie. And the jet jocks? He didn’t even want to go there, thinking of her father romancing her mother. She’d probably be receiving emails and proposals of marriage from every Tom, Dick, and Harry on board.

  Okay, he wouldn’t take too long to think all this over, but he wasn’t going to give in right away, because he was still mad as hell.

  And he hated not trusting her, but that birth control thing kept niggling at the back of his mind. She was probably telling the truth, considering how she had been accidentally conceived, but you never know. Not that a month ago he wouldn’t have given the world to be married to her and father her children. But not like this. Not with deception involved, let alone the possibility of two ruined careers if she should pop up pregnant. How well did he really know her? He started doing the math in his head, but it had nothing to do with quadratic equations.

  Philip rolled over and punched his pillow. Yeah, like he was going to get any sleep tonight. Maybe he and Hallie could eventually talk things out and figure out what to do, once he recovered from the shock. But he saw the reception she’d gotten in the library and he knew from the reaction in the wardroom that people would be watching her. Meeting too often with the same man, especially an officer, would spread scuttlebutt faster than gossip in a high school locker room.

  So what about a private place? No. Couldn’t be. There was no way he would be able to handle talking with her in her office at night, or God forbid, a deserted fan room, because he needed to be able to think with his brain. So what if they agreed to meet in a liberty port? They’d be in Palma in a few days. Get away from the ship for a few hours? Find a restaurant or a park or something? But his primal brain was pretty slick and he knew it would con him into making a beeline for the nearest hotel room. Pronto. Hell, an alleyway if it was dark enough. And although he had conceded that breaking rules might be a possibility in the future, first and foremost, they needed to talk.

  Rashid lay awake in his rack plugged in to his K-Day playlist. As Pat Benatar serenaded him with Hit Me With Your Best Shot, he couldn’t get Petty Officer McCabe out of his head. She had definitely been able to hold everyone’s attention on the mess deck tonight. He would watch for the next month and if she continued to be so mesmerizing, he knew exactly when to time the attack: 1915 hours.

  Right in the middle of Blanchard News Tonight.

  Maybe some watchstanders would be too busy watching McCabe to pay attention to their duties. Hadn’t that been essentially what the Master Chief had been talking about? Rashid would be more than happy to show the crew just how lust could destroy their lives—just like it had destroyed his. Too bad he couldn’t figure out a way to take McCabe out with him. A woman who could draw men like that. Just like Rosie had done.

  He had been such a fool about Rosie. He’d trusted her. The way she fawned over him whenever he was home. Cooking him whatever he wanted. Willing to do for him whatever his heart desired. In bed and out of bed. God knows she was amazing in the sack. That should have been another clue. She swore that he had been her only lover, so how did she know her way around the bedroom so well?

  He should have guessed. The new big screen TV. The stereo equipment. Her new clothes. Everything she had supposedly bought with the big bucks she was making at her job at the salon. She wasn’t making squat at her job. She was making the guys on his ship. Even some from his own division. They were spoiling her rotten. And they all knew she was his wife. How was that for loyal shipmates?

  He hadn’t caught her with anyone. He found out while having a beer at one of the clubs by the base. Just nursing a brew and minding his own business at the bar. They were a bunch of sailors from another division on the Blanchard, laughing at a table, just like the OSs did at chow time. Obviously they had no idea that the guy at the bar was the husband of “that incredible babe, Rosie.” It might not have been so bad if they hadn’t known his duty schedule and shared what nights she was available.

  ’Til death do us part? Right. Because first he’d wanted to kill them and then he’d wanted to kill her. But he would have just ended up in jail and not been able to punish anybody. So when Ibrahim had approached him with an offer, it made perfect sense to just take out the whole ship.

  He’d show them.

  Rashid had decided to bide his time and figure things out after he threw her out and filed for divorce. But then things got really bad for him, because he lost his housing allowance and had to move back on board the ship. Now he was surrounded by those very men who might have slept with his wife. He knew he was the laughingstock of the USS Blanchard.

  The worst part had been going to his boss, the Combat Officer, Commander Haggman, and putting in for a compassionate transfer. No way would he be able to do his job well on this ship anymore. But did he get any compassion from him? No, he was told in so many words, “Sorry you can’t satisfy your wife, but that’s your problem, not the Navy’s.”

  Fortunately, that was the very week he met Ibrahim, the only person who seemed to care about him. And within a week or two they’d become close enough to strike a deal. Rashid said he’d do whatever they asked as long as the last thing he saw in this life was the smile wiped off of the OSs’ faces. And Commander Haggman’s.

  Oh, yeah, Haggman would be going down with him for sure.

  Chapter 17

  “Eat your hearts out guys, because I get to sleep on top of her every night!” Trixie told the boys in Engineering the next morning. Babe McCabe was now the hottest topic on the ship. “My rack is right above hers.”

  Philip turned to stone, his hands froze on the valve.

  Trixie was Hallie’s bunkmate? Oh, shit. But she didn’t show any sign of knowledge, and he knew for a fact that Trixie wouldn’t be able to hide it if she did. Trixie’s mouth was that big. Surely Hallie had enough sense not to have shared him with Trixie. Hallie might not have always exercised the best judgment, but she wasn’t stupid.

  He listened carefully to all the scuttlebutt for the rest of the day.

  Especially from Trixie.

  His division pushed him to the limit however, when one of the guys asked her what Hallie had hanging on the clothesline. Philip stormed out of his office and lit into all of them. “Will you guys grow up? You are talking about one of your shipmates and it is totally inappropriate. Have a little respect.”

  He returned to his office but before he could slam the door, he overheard Trixie tell his men, “See, even Bill Gates has the hots for her.” Then she laughed. “Wait. Maybe he got so upset because she’s the chick that shitcanned his ass!” He was certain the round of laughter came from them picturing him putting the moves on the McBabe.

  Oh, God. If they only knew. And thank you, God, that they didn’t.

  Philip endured more the next day when he heard Trixie de-briefing the troops that Hallie had received sixty-eight personal emails from sailors wanting to meet her. Philip focused his eyes on his paperwork, but his ears were glued to her every word.

  “McCabe never talks about anything personal. No way would she have shared that. But Marini, our other bunkmate, works with her and she said everybody’s been emailing Public Affairs because they love the show. But the ones that email the McBabe directly are not exactly for public record—if you know what I mean.”

  They all laughed—ex
cept for one of them. Wasn’t Marini that chick that came down with Trixie for a tour? As far as he knew, Sky was the only other person who knew about them, but were there others? He’d have to make a point of asking Hallie.

  Once he was speaking to her again.

  “She only opened, like, two emails, but she was so offended she block deleted the rest. God, she’s such a prude.” Trixie grinned. “I’d have opened every one of them and kept my dance book filled for the rest of the cruise. Anyway, all of you losers can forget about her, because Marini said there’s only one name she ever looks for when she checks her mail. And it’s not one of yours.”

  Philip stopped breathing.

  “Some guy on the ship?” Bulldog asked.

  Philip’s heart stopped beating.

  “Doubt it. She doesn’t date anyone from the command. Apparently she’s got some main squeeze back home. I think she was living with him or something before we left. Who knows? She never dishes any dirt.”

  Philip sucked in a lungful of air and blew out a long sigh of relief.

  “Lucky bastard,” somebody said.

  “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t want to sleep with her anyway. She snores.”

  Oh, God. He knew that.

  He didn’t like men emailing Hallie, even if she was deleting them unread. And what about all the smooth types, including officers, who would figure out how to chat her up in the gym, the coffee shop, or the store? He didn’t want anybody hitting on her. Not only because she belonged with him. Did she? But because he knew how much it upset her. He wanted to protect her from those guys. Yeah, and jealousy had nothing to do with it. Right.

  Finally the senior chief got on their case for gossiping, but when he closed with, “Besides, fellas, there’s a lady present,” he got some laughs over that one.

  Philip glanced up and saw Trixie sock somebody on the arm and say, “Fuck you. I am too a lady.”

  But despite all the disturbing gossip, Philip wasn’t ready to talk with Hallie yet. So he watched the news each evening and listened to the scuttlebutt Trixie brought down each morning, as he thought things over. And bided his time.

  “I have an idea.” Hallie sat with Lieutenant Latimer across from Commander Scott at his office. “What if I move around the ship during the day and tape a two-minute interview with people from a different division daily, then tack it on at the end of the news broadcast? Many people have no clue what goes on in other departments. I’m sure a mess cook in the galley doesn’t know what goes on in Combat and vice versa. Obviously we wouldn’t broadcast anything classified, but I think the sailors would love the chance to be on the news and learn about each other.”

  Hallie had presented her idea to the Deputy Public Affairs Officer, who thought it was a great idea, and together they’d approached the boss.

  “I like it, McCabe. See, I knew you’d come up with good ideas to spice up this show,” Commander Scott replied. “This is like a small town. Let the people get to know a little about the other people and some of the places they don’t ordinarily see. Hey, why not start with the Captain? Then maybe the XO, the Command Master Chief, and the department heads?”

  Hallie disagreed. “Starting with the CO might be a good idea, but the majority of people on this ship don’t care about the lives and jobs of the officers. This would be for the crew, so I think we need to highlight their world. If they think one of their own might be speaking at the end of a broadcast, they’re more likely to stay tuned.”

  Commander Scott turned to Lieutenant Latimer. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Let me check with Captain Amerson and see when it would be convenient for him to kick this thing off.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks so much for setting that up, sir.” Hallie had only met the CO once during the fly-on. She’d seen him around the ship and heard him over the 1MC giving words of encouragement or relaying the latest information, much of which Hallie reiterated on the news each evening, but that was it.

  She spent the next couple of days brainstorming a list of carefully thought-out questions for Captain Amerson and then a list of where she would head next. Air Ops? Medical? The Galley? Maybe Combat? Or maybe she’d go down in the hole to Engineering? She was already envisioning a compilation tape of the best of the interviews by the end of the cruise, which would look awesome in her portfolio. A sampling of everyone from the CO to the newest seaman recruit. What a terrific boost to her career this was going to be.

  In the meantime she had to find time to get down to Sick Bay and maybe get some vitamins or something. Her job was exciting, but she felt run down all the time. Probably from working twelve hour days and not getting enough sleep with jets taking off at all hours of the night. Initially she’d slept better after telling Philip the truth, but it had been almost two weeks since they’d talked and he still hadn’t made any kind of contact with her. So now she slept fitfully again, worrying.

  He hadn’t asked to see her and talk in Palma, even though they ended up on the same liberty launch to the beach. He’d totally ignored her. She wasn’t able to get off the ship in Greece and wondered if he had, but he hadn’t mentioned any chance of talking there either. She missed him with all her heart, but she said she’d do whatever he wanted. And no contact was apparently what he wanted. Maybe he needed more time, or maybe he was truly through with her.

  Oh, well. His loss. Just wait until he saw how awesome the broadcasts were going to be with the interviews tucked in at the end. She reminded herself it was up to him to make the next move, so she’d just focus on her job and the new project. With everyone watching all the way through to see who’d be highlighted at the end of the broadcast, she’d have another jewel in her crown when she hit the broadcast world. If only she had a little more energy.

  Philip was still furious, but damn it, he missed her. It seemed as if she was everywhere these days. Was it because he still loved her or because she moved about the ship freely now? He cringed each time he saw her, because there were always men with her.

  She had to turn guys away while running on the treadmill, browsing in the store, or walking laps on the flight deck. He’d ended up on the same liberty launch with her headed to shore in Spain, but he didn’t acknowledge her and she showed no sign of recognition. Hallie seemed to truly be letting him call the shots. She owed him that much after what she’d done. Trixie continued to bring scuttlebutt down in the hole each morning, but it was obvious she knew nothing about Philip and Hallie’s relationship. Thank God for that.

  One day Philip walked into the ship’s store to get a birthday card for his mom. He noticed Hallie across the space, surrounded by three pilots in flight suits—obviously finding something they said to be very funny, because she threw back her golden head and laughed. Jealousy wrapped around his gut and squeezed. So much for her not liking attention from men. And what happened to her being allergic to flight suits? Hopefully she was too blinded by the jet jocks to notice him there. How could he leave without her seeing him? One lone engineer in a pair of blue coveralls and BCGs.

  But she did see him. Hallie excused herself and slipped over next to him in the card racks. There were no words as they looked through the selection. Philip’s nerve endings tingled when he inhaled her sweet, fruity scent. Lemons? With a side of coconut?

  He briefly flashed to that day on the sailboat when she’d driven him insane with the sunscreen. He could never quite put his finger on her scent. All he knew was he wanted bury his face in her neck and hair and smell her up close and personal this very second, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

  Finally, without looking up, Hallie said, “Looking for something for your sweetheart, sir?”

  His hands stilled. He, too, kept his eyes on the card he was holding. “I don’t have a sweetheart, McCabe. How about you? Looking for a card for your sweetheart?”

  “Apparently I don’t have one either, sir.” She cont
inued to shuffle through the cards. “But yes, I am looking for something for a guy who I wish was my sweetheart. Unfortunately, they don’t appear to make any ‘Sorry I fucking slayed you’ cards.”

  The corner of his mouth tried to tip up, but he forced himself not to laugh. “I’m surprised you don’t have a sweetheart, McCabe. Seems there are thousands here to choose from.”

  “But there’s only one cowboy I want in my rodeo.”

  Philip’s breath hitched in his chest, but he didn’t give in. He was still pissed from watching her laugh so naturally with those aviators. He looked at her now and nodded his chin toward them. “I’m surprised you’d even have time to think about your former sweetheart. Looks like you’re pretty busy these days.”

  Her mouth dropped open and pure, outright hurt radiated from her face. She looked like he’d slapped her. “That’s so not fair. I don’t invite that.”

  “You invite it with your very presence, McBabe.”

  Pain flashed in her eyes right before she executed a perfect about-face and marched out.

  Aw, hell. That had been downright rude. Come on. She might have done a huge number on him, but she was never mean.

  He selected two cards. One for his mother and another that didn’t matter what it said. He didn’t care. It had butterflies and flowers on it. He took it to his office, scratched out the printed words, and wrote inside.

  Sorry I fucking slayed you with my thoughtless comments.

  Then put it in ship’s mail to her.

  He was certain that she’d find it humorous, but she never responded. Well, what did he expect? He knew how much she hated the name, McBabe, but that damn green-eyed monster had made him say it.