Eden's Spell by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham [Graham, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781480408401
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2013-03-04T17:41:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

KATRINA WAS DRIPPING WET when she emerged from the surf, and feeling absolutely ridiculous.

But it could have been much worse, she realized. The men in uniform could have appeared just five minutes earlier.

There were three of them, all in white, standing on the other side of the beached bow of the Maggie Mae. One was an older man, stiff and straight with snow-white hair beneath his cap, worn and creased features, and pleasant green eyes.

He had the most stripes and insignias on his shirt sleeves, but they wouldn’t have been needed to tell even the most casual observer that he was the one with rank, the man in charge.

Not that the second man looked in the least humble.

He was somewhere between thirty and forty, tall, lean, and striking with blond hair and very blue eyes, a straight nose, and a sandy mustache. There was something about him that bothered Katrina; he seemed too confident, to the point of utter arrogance.

Suddenly she looked at Mike, and the pain of his betrayal streaked through her again. She didn’t blame him for what had just happened, but she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for what had happened on the boat. She still might very well hate him. She just didn’t know; she felt torn in a million pieces, adrift, as battered as the palms that lay about the island.

“Mrs. Denver, Admiral Larson, Captain Stradford, Lieutenant Oberon,” Mike was saying. And before she stepped forward to accept the admiral’s hand with her sandy and dripping one, she stared at Mike. His eyes were pure, hard, proud steel. And she knew right then that if she decried him, he would stand still and listen, and admit to every truth. He wouldn’t lie or hedge or make any denial.

She accepted the admiral’s hand, the captain’s, then the lieutenant’s. It might have been a cocktail party. She might have been neatly decked out in silk rather than in sopping wet cotton shorts.

“Mrs. Denver!” The admiral had her hand again. “There is nothing that can undo the terrible negligence that has occurred; I can only offer you our most sincere apologies and seek to rectify the damage done. We will, I promise you, get to the bottom of this unforgivable error!”

Mike was standing back slightly, arms crossed over his bare chest. “Mrs. Denver is considering a legal suit, sir.”

Captain Stradford emitted something like a snort. “I warned you, sir! This was bound to—”

“Stradford!” The admiral lifted a hand into the air. “We do not air our dirty laundry in public!”

Did she still intend to sue? Mike obviously thought that she did. She didn’t know; she didn’t know what would be right or wrong, and most awful of all, she didn’t even know what she felt, except for the pain and rage still simmering within her. She wanted to hurt him, just as she felt hurt—but something warned her to take care, because she didn’t want him really injured in terms of his career. What she felt was private, not to be aired in public, just as the admiral had said.

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