In Perfect Time (45 page)

“All right.” He brushed his cheek against her hair. “The second reason I chose teaching is because I love you. I want to marry you and have a family and a home, and I want to spend—”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare offer—” Her voice broke, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes stinging.

Roger eased her back from the cliff, turned her to face him, and rested his hands on her waist. “Don’t offer you what? Love, marriage, a home? I am. I’m offering you all of that.”

She couldn’t look at him, at his molten eyes, at his chest inching nearer, at his lips speaking impossible words. “Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice muffled by her fingers.

He eased her hand down from her mouth and smiled. “Don’t dare what? Kiss you?”

“If you do, I swear I’ll . . .” All the starch washed from her voice as he gathered her closer and closer.

With one hand he cupped her face. “Tell you what. The first time I kissed you, I pushed you away. This time you can push me away. Stomp on my foot, kick me in the kneecap, punch me in the gut, whatever you want.”

“I don’t want you to kiss me.” She planted her hands on his chest, but her resolve drained away. He loved her. He’d pursued her.

“It’ll only work if I kiss you. Then when you push me away, you’ll break my heart to pieces. Isn’t that what you want?”

An oddly compelling bit of logic, almost as compelling as his mouth drawing nearer, as the message in his brown eyes. He’d drummed his love for her, spoken it out loud, but his eyes—his eyes said even more. If she let him kiss her . . .

No, she couldn’t.

“Please . . .” But her tongue couldn’t form the word
don’t
.

He descended, and his lips covered hers, not with the des
perate passion of their kiss in Italy, but with the gentleness of respect, of regret, of a lifetime of promises he longed to fill.

The sweetness of the kiss paralyzed her. She couldn’t respond, not as she should, not as she wanted to.

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “All right. I’m ready. Give me your best shot.”

Kay clutched the olive drab lapels of his jacket, her mind woozy. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “It’s what I expect.”

Playfulness tugged at her lips. “Then I won’t. If it’s what you expect, I won’t do it.”

Roger pulled back and studied her face until the spark of playfulness ignited in his own eyes. “You won’t? But how will you break my heart?”

“Maybe . . .” She wrapped her arms around his neck, every sense full of him. “Maybe I could kiss you back, really kiss you, and then I could push you away.”

“You’d do that to me? To your old friend? I’d be devastated.” Despite his teasing tone, his eyes said something more—that he really would be devastated. Because he loved her.

“Oh, Roger.” Her voice choked, and she kissed the edge of his jaw, the manly roughness, and her fingers worked into his thick auburn hair. “I love you too. I do.”

A moan rumbled in his throat, under her lips.

Kay’s breath caught. Three times now, she’d played with his hair. Twice she’d confessed her love. Twice he’d pushed her away.

But this time he ran his fingers into her hair and sought her mouth, a lush kiss, equal parts love and desire.

Kay returned it fully, peeling away her last layer of guardedness and kissing him with all her love, all her joy, all her vulnerability, open and giving and receiving.

Roger let out a satisfied groan and burrowed a kiss into her neck. “Suddenly the next seven weeks are looking good.”

She smiled, her lips tingling from his kisses. “They are.”

“When do you want to get married?”

“What? Already?”

He straightened up and frowned. “You do want to get married, don’t you?”

Kay stared up at him, her thoughts swirling. He’d mentioned marriage, not her, but it was so soon. Wasn’t it? However, honesty worked its way to the top. “I do.”

He grinned. “Those are the words I want to hear.”

She pressed her hand to her forehead. “It’s so soon, so sudden.”

“Not really, considering what we’ve been through.” He led her by the hand to one of the taller palm trees, leaned back against it, and gathered her in his arms.

She fiddled with the knot of his khaki tie. “I’m just—well, I can still barely comprehend the fact that you love me.”

He kissed her again, short but fervent. “I’m enjoying convincing you.”

“Me too.” She caressed his shoulders, overwhelmed by the strength of him and by the freedom to show him her love at last.

“Here’s the deal.” He readjusted his arms around her waist. “We’ll have seven weeks together for the bond tour, then they’ll send us our separate ways until after the war’s over.”

“I know.” A sad sigh leached out.

He kissed her nose. “Then I have a year or two of college before I can teach. We could marry then.”

“That’s such a long time.”

Roger stroked her back, tender and . . . practiced. “I don’t think we should wait that long.”

Kay nodded. No, that didn’t seem wise.

“We could get married after we’re discharged.”

“Whenever that is.” With the Japanese fighting to the death for every square inch on Okinawa, Kay doubted that would be anytime soon.

“Or we could get married at the end of the bond tour.”

“Seven weeks from now?”

“Mm-hmm.” The glint in his eyes said he was serious.

Kay rested her head on his chest, her mind reeling. Seven weeks? That was so soon. And yet not soon enough. “I don’t want a big spectacle like Georgie had. I don’t want a bunch of strangers, or PR officers, or—”

“You and me. A little church. A few of our closest friends. What more could we want?”

The ocean breeze ruffled her skirt and her hair, and she raised a smile to the man she loved. “How about a bungalow by the sea?”

One side of his mouth twitched up. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.”

He kissed her, and the rhythm of his lips on hers sent a message she received with joy. He loved her, he’d never leave her, and they’d make their home together forever.

56

Santa Monica
July 7, 1945

No doubt about it. The dame was dangerous.

As Kay glided down the church aisle, Roger couldn’t stop grinning. Most danger was meant to be avoided, but some danger was meant to be embraced, and he intended to embrace Kay Jobson for the rest of his life.

In a few minutes, she’d be Kay Cooper. His wife. Hands tightly clasped behind him, his thumbs beat out a rhythm. He wasn’t nervous. Why would he be nervous?

A lacy veil muted Kay’s face, but a flash of white told him she was smiling straight at him, trusting him with her heart and her body and her life.

Lord,
don’t
let
me
fail
her.
A rush of peace stilled his thumbs. Life wouldn’t always be easy, but he’d work hard for her and be true to her and love her to the death. And even if he did fail her, the Lord never would. She would always be provided for.

Kay lifted her long skirt a few inches and climbed the steps to Roger. No man gave her away, but Roger accepted her with all his heart. He held out his hand and drew her to his side before the pastor.

Her hand felt small and damp in his, her arm warm beside his, and her breath puffed out the veil. Was she nervous too? He stroked her hand with his thumb, and she turned a grateful smile up to him.

The pastor talked and talked, and Roger strained to listen. Love as the Lord loves, sacrificially, unconditionally. Forgive each other’s trespasses as the Lord forgives yours. Charity “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”

Thank goodness it was all in his Bible because the words sifted through the holes in his brain. He and Kay would have plenty of verses to study, to make notes on, to live out together.

The pastor told them to face each other, and they repeated their vows, Roger with a throaty voice, Kay with a tremulous voice. He slid a simple gold band onto her lovely hand, and she eased one over his big sausage of a finger.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The moment he was waiting for. Roger lifted her veil. Kay’s face glowed with love, but her eyes glistened too much.

His heart full, he cradled her beautiful face in his hands. “My wife. My love.”

She raised her mouth, and he met her halfway—a sweet and gentle kiss. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Know why I married you?” he murmured.

“I thought I did. Why?”

“So I could get my Bible back.”

Her shoulders shook with repressed laughter, and he grinned at her, his gorgeous, clever, dangerous dame.

Knee deep in the Pacific, Kay swung her leg in the warm gray-blue water. “Almost three years together. I can’t believe it’s over.”

“I know.” Mellie leaned down and let an incoming wave soak her. “We’ve been through so much.”

Georgie nudged Mellie. “You were so shy you could barely look anyone in the eye.”

Mellie nudged back. “And you were a quivering mass of fear disguised behind a chipper smile.”

“And you . . .” Georgie arched an eyebrow at Kay.

“I know what I was.” Kay smiled and splashed both her friends. “More importantly, I know who I am now.”

“Just think what we’ve been through.” Mellie set her hands on her hips and gazed over the ocean as if the past three years’ adventures lay before her. “Medical emergencies, and ditching at sea, and landing behind enemy lines. Not to mention dirt and bugs and washing our hair in our helmets.”

Kay laughed, but Georgie fell silent.

Mellie turned to the brunette. “I know, sweetie. We all miss Rose. We always will.”

Georgie nodded, her eyes moist. “But think how happy she is up in heaven with Jesus and Clint.”

Sometimes silence was right. They’d seen a lot of death. They’d seen too many strong young men maimed and disabled by war. They’d seen enough illness and suffering for a lifetime. But they’d done their best to ease pain and misery, to heal the sick and wounded, and to ease the passage of the dying.

They’d overcome the objections of colonels and generals who didn’t believe women were capable of handling deprivation and danger. They’d proven medical air evacuation was safe and effective, and now it was used in all theaters of the war. They were pioneers.

Georgie swished her hand through the water. “Three years ago, would you ever have imagined the three of us standing here, best friends, and all three of us married women?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Kay shook her head so violently, she didn’t see a wave, and it knocked her onto her backside.

Laughing hard, Georgie and Mellie helped her to her feet.

Kay wiped salt water from her face and smiled. “I never would have imagined it, but now I can’t imagine it any other way.”

“And look at the handsome husbands we snagged.” Georgie grinned and faced the beach, where the three men lounged in the sun. “I’m thankful Hutch and Tom both finagled a furlough for your wedding.”

Tom had returned from Europe only a few days after Hutch and Georgie’s wedding, and he’d brought his dog, Sesame, to Mellie’s relief.

Kay squeezed water from her ponytail. “I’m glad they stood up with Roger in the ceremony.” Mike had been unbearably gracious about Roger and Kay’s engagement and had accepted the wedding invitation, but his grandfather had passed away last week, and he’d gone home for the funeral.

“I think the boys are sleeping.” Mellie’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s go dribble water on them.”

“Mellie!” Georgie cried. “You surprise me.”

“Come on.” Mellie ran up the beach, sand kicking behind her feet.

Kay followed, laughing.

Roger wasn’t asleep. He raised his head and rested it on his crossed forearms, and a smile edged up, higher and higher as she came nearer and nearer. His gaze slid down to her toes and back to her eyes. She could feel the heat gliding over her curves.

He’d never looked at her that way, and it scared and delighted her all at once. But now they were married. Tonight . . . well, tonight would be more than delightful, she just knew.

She gave him a flirtatious smile, and he sent it right back to her.

Mellie leaned over her dozing husband and squeezed out
her hair over his bare back. He jerked awake and cried out, and everyone laughed.

Hutch opened one eye and looked at Georgie. “If you do, I’ll throw you in the ocean, and your curls will get frizzy.” He finished in a falsetto.

She sank onto the towel beside him. “That’s why I didn’t get my hair wet in the first place.”

Roger sat up, held out his hand, and drew Kay down to sit in front of him. He circled his arm around her waist, pulled her to his sun-warmed bare chest, and kissed her neck. “Mm. Salty.”

Laughter broke the intensity of the moment, and she hugged his arm to her stomach.

Georgie shielded her eyes and glanced at the bluffs behind them. “To think this is the same place Hutch and I celebrated our marriage. We had a couple hundred complete strangers at a ritzy reception, and you’re having a picnic for six on the beach.”