Eileen Nauman - The Right Touch

She nudged off her shoes, giving him a shy glance. Cal looked devastatingly handsome, though weary. His face was free of the dark, bristly growth of beard, his gray eyes were probing and the planes of his face were relatively free of tension. He smiled a little, making Dev relax slightly. She prayed that the tenuous middle ground she felt they both wanted would grow between them.

“Got time for a cup of coffee?”

Dev’s heart lurched at the husky quality in his voice, and her spirits rosé. Cal wasn’t angry with her. For all his ego, he wasn’t going to take his embarrassment out on her. She rewarded him with a genuine smile. “Let me take a shower first.”

“Sure.”

Cal watched her walk to the bathroom, impressed, even mesmerized, by her graceful carriage. He sipped the coffee, relishing the taste. He had seen the unsureness in Dev’s eyes as she had come into the room. Suddenly, all the embarrassment and anger he might have aimed at her dissolved. Dev didn’t deserve that from him, no matter how ashamed he felt. Oddly, Cal found himself wanting to reach out, to continue to bask in her company. Whether he liked it or not, Dev had shared one of the most brutal moments in his life with him. And Cal had never shared any of his deep emotional responses with anyone. Except Chief. But not to the degree he had with Dev. Ruminating on that, he contented himself with watching the traffic increase in Victoria Harbor as the sun rosé and the morning stirred to life.

Dev emerged from the bathroom in a pair of white polyester knickers, white socks and a pink T-shirt that lovingly emphasized her breasts and flat stomach. Her hair was piled in a loose knot on top of her head, tendrils curled temptingly around her temples as a result of her shower. Dev smiled and flopped down opposite him, legs crossed beneath the table.

“I think I’m going to live now,” she said, pouring herself some coffee.

“I’m thinking about it, too,” Cal offered wryly, watching her slender hands slide around the china cup.

“You look a hundred percent better.” Her blue eyes sparkled as Dev drew the cup to her lips. “You look handsome again.”

He smiled. “I don’t feel very handsome.” He met and held her gaze. “I’ve been remembering some of what happened, Dev.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “The past day and a half have been a living hell for me and not much more than that for you.”

Dev placed the cup on the table. “I know you’re feeling awfully vulnerable and emotionally raw right now, Cal.”

“I feel brittle. I think if someone yelled at me right now, I’d shatter. I’ve never felt like this before,” he muttered.

“Only when you lose someone who’s very close to you does that happen.”

Cal took a deep breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You know what I find phenomenal?”

“No. What?”

“Us. You and me. I’m a stranger who crashed into your life, made an ass out of myself, embarrassed the hell out of you in front of my friends and yet you stuck it out with me.” He opened his eyes, his turbulent gaze settling on her. “You had every right to kick me out of your room Monday night. Why didn’t you?”

Dev swallowed against a forming lump. “Because you were hurting.”

Cal stared at her. “The women I know would gladly have booted me out and told me to catch a cab and go back to the carrier to get sick.”

“You’d had too much to drink, Cal. I didn’t think you could have even made it downstairs to get a taxi. What I hadn’t counted on was your tragedy.” Dev lowered her lashes. “Now I understand why you wanted to get drunk and why you didn’t want to be at the party on Monday.” She clasped her fingers in her lap. “You were hurting. And—and when you started crying—”

Cal stared disbelievingly at her. “I what?”

“Cried. What’s wrong with that? I was crying right along with you after I pieced together what had happened.”

He stared at her.

“I couldn’t stand by and not help you.” Dev raised her head, drowning in his gray eyes. “You needed help. I couldn’t kick you out.” And then a small smile touched her lips. “Besides, you weren’t a total bastard. You came and apologized to me for your behavior earlier, and you also brought me the heel.”

A vague memory stirred in Cal’s shocked mind. Yes, he remembered being held, rocked to and fro like a child in the arms of its mother, sobbing. And Dev’s softened weeping as she held him tightly to her. Cal swallowed hard. “I’ve never cried.”

Dev frowned, searching his face that was lined with denial. “I see. Is that a maxim of the marine corps or fighter pilots in particular? You’re real men? Real men don’t cry? Don’t show any emotion?” Dev’s voice lowered. “Well, in my book, any man who exhibits that kind of behavior is emotionally constipated. I see nothing wrong with showing and displaying how you feel. As a matter of fact, it’s kind of nice to be able to share someone else’s feelings. Women do it all the time. A man has a heart and can feel just as we do. Why shouldn’t he cry when he’s in pain?”

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