Debbie Macomber - Navy Brat

“Hi,” she managed, hoping she sounded a whole lot less flustered than she was feeling. Erin knew herself well, and she couldn’t imagine what it was about her that had attracted this gorgeous man.

Few would have described Erin as a beautiful sophisticate. Her features were distinctively Irish, comely and appealing, but she wasn’t anywhere close to being strikingly beautiful. Naturally long curly chestnut-red hair, straight white teeth and a smidgen of freckles across the bridge of her Gaelic nose were her most distinctive features. She was reasonably attractive, but no more so than any of the other women who populated the cocktail lounge.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“Ah…sure.” She reached for her glass of Chablis and held on to it with one hand. “And you are…”

“Brandon Davis.” He claimed the chair recently vacated by Aimee. “Most folks call me Brand.”

“Erin MacNamera,” she supplied, and noticed several envious stares coming her way from the women in the crowd. Even if nothing came from this exchange, Erin couldn’t help being flattered by his attention. “Most folks call me Erin.”

He smiled.

“Is it true? Was I really giving off vibes?” she asked, surprising herself. Obviously it was the wine talking. Generally she wasn’t even close to being this direct with a man she didn’t know.

Brand didn’t answer her right away, which wasn’t any wonder. She’d probably caught him off guard, which was only fair, since he was throwing her completely off balance.

“My friend was saying men in bars pick up vibes like a radar detector,” she explained, “and I was wondering what messages I was signaling.”

“None.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help being disappointed. For a moment there, she’d thought she’d stumbled upon some latent talent she hadn’t known she possessed. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Then why were you staring at me?” He’d probably ruin everything by informing her she had a run in her nylons, or her skirt was unzipped, or something else thoroughly embarrassing.

“Because you’re Irish and it’s St. Patrick’s Day.”

So much for padding her ego. Naturally. It was the in thing to be seen with an Irish girl on a day that traditionally celebrated her ancestors.

“You’re not wearing green,” he added.

“I’m not?” Erin’s gaze dropped to her blue striped business suit. She hadn’t given a thought to it being St. Patrick’s Day when she’d dressed that morning. “I’m not,” she agreed, surprised she’d forgotten something so basic to her heritage.

Brand laughed lightly, and the sound of it was so refreshing, Erin couldn’t keep from smiling herself. She didn’t know a whole lot about this sort of thing, but her best guess suggested Brand Davis wasn’t the type of man who lounged around bars picking up women. First of all, he didn’t need to. With his good looks and innate charm, women would naturally flock to him.

She decided to test her suspicion. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.” That wasn’t too surprising. Since this was her first time at the Blue Lagoon, the chances of their having crossed each other’s paths at the bar were pretty slender.

“It’s my first time.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

It took Erin a second to realize he was asking her how often she frequented the cocktail lounge. “Every now and again,” she answered, striving to sound urbane, or at least a tad more sophisticated than she’d been at age fourteen.

The waitress stepped up to the table, and before Erin could answer one way or the other Brand ordered two more of the same. Generally, one glass of wine was Erin’s limit, but she was willing to break a few rules. It wasn’t often she ran into a Greek god.

“I’m new to the area,” Brand explained before Erin could think fast enough to formulate a question.

She looked at him and smiled blandly. The wine had dulled her senses, but then, making small talk had always been difficult for her. She wished she could think of some intelligent comment to make. Instead, her gaze fell on a poster on the other side of the room, and she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“I love ferries.” Then, realizing he might think she was referring to leprechauns, she felt compelled to explain. “When I first moved to Seattle, I was enthralled by the ferryboats. Whenever I needed to think something over, I’d ride one over to Winslow or Bremerton and hash everything out in my mind.”

“It helps?”

Whatever you do, don’t let her know you’re navy. Casey MacNamera’s voice echoed in Brand’s mind like a Chinese gong. The MCPO—masterchief petty officer—was a good friend of Brand’s. They’d worked together for three years early in his career, and they’d kept in touch ever since.

As soon as Casey had learned Brand had been given his special assignment at Naval Station Puget Sound at Sand Point in Seattle, the old Irishman had contacted him, concerned about his eldest daughter.

She’s working too hard, not taking care of herself. Give an old man some peace of mind and check up on her. Only, for the love of heaven, don’t let her know I sent you.

Personally, Brand wasn’t much into this detective business. But, as a favor to his friend, he’d reluctantly agreed to look up Erin MacNamera.

He’d been ready to enter her office building when she’d stepped outside. Brand had never met Casey’s daughter, but one look at that thick thatch of auburn hair and he’d immediately known that this woman was a close relative of his friend. So he’d followed her into the Blue Lagoon.

He studied her for several minutes, noticing little things about her. She was delicate. Not dainty or fragile, as the word implied. Erin MacNamera was exquisite. That wasn’t a word he used often. Her gaze had met his once, and he’d managed to hold her look for just a second. She’d stared back at him, surprise darkening her eyes, before she’d jerked her gaze away. When he’d stepped up to her table, she’d been flustered, and she’d striven hard not to show it.

The more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her that amazed him. Brand wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected from Casey’s daughter, but certainly not the enchanting red-haired beauty who sat across from him. Erin was as different from her old man as silk was from leather. Casey was a potbellied, boisterous MCPO, while his daughter was a graceful creature with eyes as shiny and dark as the sea at midnight.

Another thing, Casey had warned. Remember, this is my daughter, not one of your cupcakes.

Brand couldn’t help grinning at that. He didn’t have cupcakes. At thirty-two, he couldn’t say he’d never been in love. He’d fallen in love a handful of times over the years, but there had never been one woman who’d captured his heart for more than a few months. None that he’d ever seriously considered spending the rest of his life with.

Be careful what you say, Casey had advised. My Erin’s got her mother’s temper.

Brand didn’t feel good about this minor deception. The sensation intensified as they sat and talked over their drinks. An hour after he’d sat down with her, Erin glanced at her watch and flatly announced she had to be leaving.

As far as Brand was concerned, his duty was done. He’d looked up his friend’s daughter, talked to her long enough to assure her father, when he wrote next, that Erin was in good health. But when she stood to leave, Brand discovered he didn’t want her to go. He’d thoroughly enjoyed her company.

“How about dinner?” he found himself asking.

Twin spots of color appeared in her cheeks, and her eyes darkened slightly as though she’d been caught off guard. “Ah…not tonight. Thanks anyway.”