A Question of Honor (7 page)

Kit released a sigh, the warmth of the sunlight making her drowsy. There was an incredible sense of protection surrounding her and she knew it was due to Noah’s presence. Even with Dante free, she knew she was safe with Noah. His words were like balm to her exhausted state and Kit quickly succumbed to sleep.

Noah glanced at Kit from time to time, keeping most of his attention on the traffic. In sleep she looked younger. It was hard to imagine that she was close to his own age; she looked twenty-four. Maybe that was why she had an ulcer: instead of allowing the tension of her job to show, she turned it inward on herself, like a dagger.

Groggily Kit forced her eyes open after a third gentle shake of her shoulder. Noah’s male scent drifted into her sensitive nostrils and she inhaled it like a lost memory.

“Kit?” he called. “We’re home.”

Home
…the word struck a responsive chord. If only she were really home…

“Come on, or I’ll have to carry you in.”

Viewing that as a threat, Kit forced herself to move, unbuckling the seat belt. She blinked, her lids heavy with sleep. “I feel as if I slept forever.”

Noah opened the door to the Trans Am. “It was only about half an hour’s worth.”

She suppressed a yawn. “That long?”

“You needed it,” he growled softly, climbing out of the sports car.

Kit was going to open her car door, but Noah got there first. “You don’t have to do that,” she protested, getting out.

He gave her a patient smile, cupping her elbow as he guided her up the walk.

Kit ignored the trace of irony she saw in Noah’s face, looking instead at the house he called a home. It was a single-story brick bungalow with well-manicured hedges and several palms gracing the yard. Towering hibiscus bushes surrounded the house itself, their profusion of multicolored flowers creating a look of Eden.

Kit cast a glance up at him. “You do all the yard work alone?”

“Will wonders never cease?” Noah drawled, opening the latch on the gate and allowing her to enter the front yard.

“That tells me something about you.”

Noah frowned. “What?”

“You may spend a lot of time at sea, but you also like putting your hands in the earth, as well.”

“I like putting my hands on any living thing,” he remarked cryptically as he fished the house key out of his pocket.

“That sounds threatening,” Kit muttered.

“Relax. Okay, brace yourself,” he warned, pushing the door open.

Kit frowned and began to ask why, when a barrage of brown, black and gray furry bodies assaulted her. The joyous bark of a dog and the meowing of two cats blended into a cacophony of greetings. Kit’s eyes widened enormously as she was swamped by the cats running madly in circles between her legs. She heard Noah laugh and he gripped her arm, guiding her skillfully through the animals.

The dog barked, leaping midair before them in the red tile foyer, and Kit realized with amazement that he had only three legs. A flood of compassion surged through her. Noah reached out, speaking in an authoritative, but nonetheless gentle tone. Immediately the black Doberman ceased his antics and calmly positioned himself in front of them, panting happily.

Kit looked up at Noah. “What is this? A zoo?”

He grinned, taking off his officer’s cap and tossing it on the small mahogany desk nearby. “Noah’s ark, remember?” He gestured toward the dog and two cats. “Meet my extended family. The dog’s name is Tripoli. He’s the general boss of my home when I’m not here and he’s an outstanding watchdog.”

Kit barely heard Noah’s explanation, a pained expression on her face. “But look at him, Noah. He’s got only three legs! My God, that’s horrible…the poor thing.”

Noah reached over to caress Kit’s cheek, then chastised himself at the instinctive gesture. Kit invited intimacy. Disgruntled, he growled, “Let’s look at the positives, shall we? No negatives. So his right front leg is missing. Tripoli gets around fine without it.”

“But he’s crippled!” Kit protested, a catch in her voice.

“He doesn’t know that,” Noah returned, catching her startled expression. “If you make him a cripple, he’ll become one for you, Kit.” He patted Tripoli affectionately, scratching a favorite place behind the dog’s ear. Then Noah gave her a serious look. “But if you treat him as a whole dog, he’ll be whole for you and won’t know the difference.”

Noah’s philosophy rattled Kit. There was truth to his quietly spoken observation. She turned her attention to the cats, who milled about her feet, meowing out their own kind of welcome, begging for her attention. “It’s a good thing I love animals,” she groused, crouching in the hall to pet all of them.

Noah knelt beside her, acutely aware of the tenderness in her expression. “I knew you would.”

“Did you, indeed?” Kit replied, hiding behind sarcasm.

This just wasn’t going to work. She was snapping and defensive over his every comment. He picked up the first cat. “You hear that, Calico? This beautiful lady thinks I’m pulling her leg. What do you think?”

Calico promptly released a mournful meow as if on cue. Kit couldn’t help but laugh as she reached over and petted the animal. She heard the cat wheezing heavily with each breath.

“Something’s wrong with her….”

Noah nodded, placing Calico in her arms. “She came crawling up on my back porch last year during a hurricane. The vet diagnosed distemper. I thought she was going to die from it.”

“And you pulled her through.”

“Actually,” Noah admitted, “Calico pulled herself through. She’s got a good heart, and if you don’t watch this little lady, she’ll snuggle up beside you on the pillow at night. Callie prefers the softer things life has to offer.”

Kit laughed helplessly, placing Calico on the highly polished red tile floor. Her heart softened as she stood watching Noah with his animals. Anyone who had this kind of devoted following couldn’t be all bad. Animals were said to be living mirrors of their owner’s temperament. “I wouldn’t mind a furry body sharing my bed.”

Noah’s brow arched inquiringly.

Flushing, Kit stood nervously beneath his gaze. She could almost hear his rejoinder about him joining her in bed. The thought was startlingly heated. With every new discovery about Noah, her defenses melted just a little more, leaving her vulnerable to his appealing nature.

Picking up the second cat, Noah grinned. “This dainty little morsel is Tuna Boat.” He placed her in Kit’s waiting arms.

“She weighs a ton!” Kit exclaimed, hefting the twenty-pound long-haired gray cat.

“Yes, well, Tunie has never missed a meal in her life, as you can tell.”

Kit tried not to be swayed by Noah and petted the worshipful cat. She studied the cat’s face. “Oh, Noah…” she whispered, distraught. “Don’t tell me she’s—”

“Blind,” Noah finished. “Some teenage boys were chasing her with sticks and struck her in the head down by the dock one morning before I went aboard the
Osprey
. I happened to see it, but by the time I got over there, the damage had been done. I took her to the vet and he said she was lucky to have survived the blow at all.” He stroked the cat’s head fondly as she nestled contentedly in Kit’s arms. “She’ll be blind the rest of her life.”

Kit’s gray eyes glittered with unexpected tears. “How can people pick on poor, defenseless animals that have no way to protect themselves?”

She was emotionally unpredictable. One more minus to their unworkable situation, Noah told himself. But Kit’s unexpected compassion touched him deeply. “Tunie has the run of the front yard and back. She’s in seventh heaven—she owns me, chows down twice a day and has a home.”

“But she’s blind!”

“Tunie doesn’t know that. Put her down, Kit, and watch her navigate for a moment. This cat has memorized the entire layout of the house and yard.” Noah shook his head, mystified. “I swear Tunie has all-terrain avionics inside that head of hers. She never runs into a tree or bush.” He ruffled the cat’s fur affectionately. “She’s quite a little lady.”

Kit rested her fingers against her throat, swallowing hard.

He gave her an intense look. “Animals touch you, don’t they?”

She glared at him, then fixed her gaze on the cat. “Of course! Why should you be so surprised?”

“Now calm down. That wasn’t meant as an accusation.”

“It sounded like one.”

“It was an obtuse compliment. Truce?”

Kit gave him a disgruntled look as she tore her eyes from Tunie. “All right,” she relented. “Truce.” Her voice lowered with feeling. “I don’t believe all this. They’re all disabled.” And her eyes darkened upon him. “Am I one more cripple coming to your house, Noah?”

The tenor of her voice caught him off guard. His green gaze softened as he held her wavering stare. “In my eyes, no one here is crippled. Does that answer your question?”

Kit gulped down a lump, holding Tunie tightly. For some unknown reason, she identified strongly with the loving cat. “I feel like Tunie here,” she admitted rawly. “Only my blindness to the narc business has left me spinning.”

Noah nodded, understanding far more about her condition than he could let on. “You’re surrounded by courage. Each one of these animals has pulled itself back to life with its own inner strength.” He gave her an unsure look. Kit was too mercurial for his tastes. “Listen, let’s get you settled. I’ve got some business to attend to back at the office. When I get home around seven, I’ll make dinner. Deal?”

How could she say no? Kit wondered numbly, looking down at Tunie happily snuggled within her arms. Noah brought in her luggage and placed it in the brightly colored guest room that would be hers. Sunlight filtered through the pale green curtains. The bedspread was patterned with white daisies, yellow marigolds and rust-colored asters. The furniture was crafted from cherry wood, which added to the overall sense of richness of the decor. Kit stared at Noah’s broad back as he placed the suitcases on the bed for her. Those shoulders could conceivably carry the weight of the world, she thought. Her heart blossomed with hope—a feeling she thought had been taken from her forever. Looking down, she realized the animals had crowded around her feet once more. She managed a laugh.

“Looks like I’m going to have all the help I need to unpack.”

Her laughter was lilting, stealing through the barriers Noah had tried to erect. He straightened, forcing a smile. “Just watch Tunie. She has a terrible habit of plopping down in opened suitcases, open bureau drawers or on clothing that isn’t hung up.” Noah grimaced. “And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve picked gray cat hairs off my uniform.”

“Typical man—you throw your clothes anywhere it suits you.”

Smarting under her observation, Noah halted at the entrance. “Get used to your new home while I’m gone,” he muttered. “With all these characters here, I keep it clean or else. The bathroom is over there,” he said, pointing toward a closed door.

“And your room?” Kit asked. The words were out before she could take them back.

Noah acted as if there were nothing wrong with her question. “On the other side of your bathroom.” He gazed down at the animals, then up at her. “Take your time unpacking, get the layout of the house. Then I suggest a hot bath and some rest. You’re still pale.”

Kit wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like being mothered, Noah.”

His green eyes glinted with devilry. “Oh, yes, you do. You just don’t know it. I’ll see you later.”

He was so sure of himself, and in her present state that unsettled her. “I’ll see you at seven.”

The lack of enthusiasm, even friendliness in her tone, left him uncomfortable. “Yeah. Seven.” And he turned, leaving her bedroom.

After Noah left, Kit chastised herself. Her voice had sounded clipped and hard. Noah Trayhern was making her emotions fluctuate like a roller coaster. As she put away her jeans and tank tops and hung up what few dresses and skirts she owned, Kit attempted to sort out the past week.

Noah was a catalyst, she decided, for everything he came in contact with, judging from the animals sitting expectantly around the bed, watching her with aplomb. And whether Kit wanted to admit it or not, she felt protected with Noah’s animal family. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the bed, giving each cat a quick pat before wandering through the house.
Home,
she corrected herself.
Noah calls it a home.
It was going to be a battleground with them forced to live in such close quarters.

Kit mulled over that thought as she ambled down the hall. The feeling in his house made her admit it really was a home. She looked over her shoulder: Tuna Boat waddled in the lead, with Calico and Tripoli bringing up the rear. A tender smile pulled at her lips as she watched them follow her like a gaggle of loyal geese. Noah was right: they didn’t recognize they were crippled, blind or shortchanged. Was love the ingredient that made them feel whole again?

Deep in thought, Kit wandered into Noah’s bedroom by accident. Tuna Boat came and rested her plump fanny on Kit’s foot. Calico wheezed on by, leaping up on the multicolored afghan spread across the large bed. Noah was like a prism, Kit decided as her gaze ranged around the room. Sunlight, when refracted through a crystal, revealed all the colors seen by the human eye. This room, this house, did not mirror the dark side of masculinity. Instead, like a prism, it showed light, color and sensitivity.

Several luxuriant Boston ferns hung from the ceiling, and potted plants graced the finely crafted cherry-wood dresser. The warmth of the highly waxed mahogany floors only enhanced the feeling of life that made Kit want to stay in his room. A flood of guilt surged through her: she felt as if she were trespassing. Yet it was as if he had invited her to explore this personal side to himself. He trusted her!

By the time she had completed her exploration of the house, Kit was tired. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was almost three o’clock. Noah’s suggestion of a hot bath sounded heavenly. At the door to the bathroom, Kit turned to the two cats tagging along with her.

“No,” she told them firmly. “You are not following me in here.”

As Kit shut the bathroom door and slid out of her clothes, her mind drifted back to Noah. She realized as she stepped into the hot, fragrant water that she had been on the receiving end of his hard, efficient side. This new and unexpected aspect involving his love of animals that had suffered beckoned to her. Noah was healing, whether she wanted to admit it or not. But could she keep her personal feelings for him at bay and maintain the decorum demanded of both of them in this unusual circumstance?