The Officer's Dilemma
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Janice Carter
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17.2K
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23
PROLOGUE
“ZANNA!” A WOMAN called out.
Dominic Kennedy jerked his attention away from the two former classmates he’d been chatting with to the door of The Daily Catch. Snowflakes and a gust of winter blew into the small bistro as the woman entering stamped her boots on the doormat. Laughing, she shook off her woolen hat, showering those nearby in wet snow. Dom was oblivious to the roar of joking protest from the people she sprayed. Every nerve in his body was on full alert as he watched the tall redhead. Suzanna Winters. Or Zanna, as she’d told him almost eighteen years ago when he last saw her, weeping at her younger brother’s grave.
She unbuttoned her parka, draping it over a hook already heaving with coats, and hugged the woman who’d greeted her. Her face was flushed—not simply from the cold, Dom was thinking, but maybe from the attention. The Zanna Winters he remembered would have dodged the stares by slinking inside—if she’d have come to the party at all. But this woman was light-years away from that nineteen-year-old. Her once flame-colored hair had mellowed to a burnished mahogany and the low-necked sweater over slim black jeans accented curves the lanky teen he’d had a crush on back then definitely never had.
“That Zanna,” commented the woman at Dom’s elbow. “Always making an entrance. And just before midnight on New Year’s Eve!”
Dom stiffened as the graveside memory of a tear-streaked face and choked question—does the pain ever go away?—flashed in his mind. Ignoring the couple beside him, he tracked Zanna’s slow movement around the knots of people on her way to the bar. The bartender leaned across the counter to hug her, sparking a twinge of envy in Dom. He was vaguely aware of the woman at his side asking him a question but mumbled “Excuse me,” and headed toward the bar.
By the time he reached her side, Zanna was perched on a stool, holding a glass of white wine and chatting animatedly to the bartender. Dom couldn’t recall the guy’s name, so he caught his attention by raising an index finger as he interrupted, “Another IPA?”
Zanna turned her head as the bartender said, “Coming up.” She studied Dom for a second or two before asking, “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“Dominic Kennedy. Dom.”
Realization crept across her face and she nodded. “Brandon’s funeral. You came over to give me a hug after everyone else had left.”
Setting a glass of ale in front of Dom, the bartender interrupted, saying, “Glad you could come tonight, Zan, and thanks again for helping out after the storm. All of us volunteers appreciated having a warm place to work, with electricity.”
Zanna shrugged. “I was relieved the old generator kicked into action, Ted. And lots of people helped out those couple of days.”
Ted Nakamura—a friend of Zanna’s cousin, Ben. Dom remembered him now and was about to introduce himself when someone else came up to the bar, getting Nakamura’s attention. An awkward lull settled, so Dom picked up the ale and took a sip, aware of Zanna’s gaze. He didn’t want to talk about her brother’s funeral at a party, so he said, “I heard the town was shut down for a few days before Christmas.”
“I assume you weren’t here then?”
“No. Unfortunately I missed Christmas itself because my ship was caught on the fringes of the same storm. Just got here a couple of days ago. I’m here for two weeks then off to the Mediterranean.”
“Your ship? Navy? Coast guard?” She peered over the rim of her wineglass, sipping, but keeping her eyes on his.
“Navy.”
“Hmm. No uniform tonight?”
He caught the twinkle in her eye. “Here?” He gestured to the crowd behind them.
She grinned and Dom’s heart gave a small flip-flop. He was about to move closer to mute the background noise when someone shouted, “Five minutes, folks! Get ready for the countdown.”
“Oh gawd,” Zanna muttered.
“Not a New Year’s Eve countdown fan?”
“Not even a New Year’s Eve party fan. I only came because Ted there—” she nodded toward the other end of the bar where Ted was uncorking a champagne bottle “—insisted. Told me I needed to take a break from being my usual workaholic self and have some fun. Though this definitely isn’t my idea of fun.”
“Mine neither.”
“Oh? Then why are you here, Mr. Kennedy?” One eyebrow arched in a tease.
“My mother made me come.”
Her laugh rolled down the bar.
“Four minutes!” cried someone else.
“Shall we go?” Dom impulsively asked.
“Go?”
“Outside. Cool night air and—”
“Escape all that hugging and kissing at the stroke of midnight,” she finished with a grimace and plunked her half-empty wineglass down. “Yes!”
Dom grinned and began to work his way through the room, aware that Zanna was following him and that some people were asking her where she was going. He didn’t stop until he reached the jumble of coats at the door and by the time she reached his side he was zipping up his down ski jacket.
Zanna plucked her coat from the hook. “One of the benefits of coming late to a party. Your coat’s always on top of the pile.” Then, slipping into it, she breathlessly exclaimed, “Let’s go!”
Dom pushed open the door as a shout of “Ten!” sounded from the crowd milling in the center of the bistro. The quiet, cold night rushed at him as he closed the door behind them. Turning to Zanna, he asked, “Where to?”
“The water,” she said, pointing to the harbor fencing opposite the bistro. She strode across the snow-covered boardwalk, and leaning her elbows on the flat top of the railing, gazed out into the dark. For a moment Dom felt she’d drifted away. To the past?
“I can’t remember the last time I looked out on this view in winter,” he said, looking in the same direction. “Maybe when I was a teen.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t been home much since college days and the navy.”
He sensed her watching him. “Hardly at all. Holidays mainly.”
“Miss it?”
“Not really, to be honest.” He looked at her and smiled. “I’ve been lucky to realize my youthful dreams of travel and adventure. Except for my mother and an uncle, the navy is my only family. How about you?” When she didn’t reply, he added, “Was running the family hotel your dream?” He regretted the question when he saw her hesitation. “I mean, I heard you’ve been back in the Cove for two or three years. Was that part of your long-term plan?”
She turned her attention back to the water. “No, but then life always throws curveballs, doesn’t it?”
So, she didn’t want to talk about it. Dom mentally kicked himself for letting the conversation flow into serious territory, away from the light tone at the bar. Recovering that earlier mood suddenly seemed beyond his ability.
Finally, she said, “By the way, I want to thank you.”
“For?”
“All those years ago, at Bran’s funeral. You were the only one who got what I was going through. Everyone clustered around my parents and forgot about me. At least, that’s how it felt.” She raised her head, meeting his eyes. “You helped me...when you told me the pain would get better.” Her eyes were glistening, and not from the cold air.
“And did it?”
“Eventually. Like you said at the time, a little bit every day.”
Dom wanted to pull her into his arms, the way he’d held onto her as a sobbing teenager. But the woman next to him wasn’t that girl. She’d had a life apart from his—back then and certainly now. Maybe if they hadn’t both gone their separate ways to college... Dom switched back to the present. There was nothing to be gained by such futile thinking.
Zanna turned her head to the hotel, lit up like some fairy-tale castle, on the hill overlooking the harbor. “I should get back,” she said, her voice soft and almost regretful.
At least that was how Dom wanted to interpret it. He didn’t feel ready for the night to end, not yet and not like this. “Coffee? A nightcap?” The hope in his question lingered between them.
“My assistant is waiting to go home. I promised I’d be back shortly after midnight.”
Dom kept the disappointment out of his voice. “Okay, I’ll walk with you.”
“It’s right there!” She gestured to the hotel on the street above the harbor boardwalk.
“Still...”
She shrugged and led the way up the stairs leading to the main road. Except for the jingling strings of Christmas lights and decorations bobbing in the gentle breeze off the water, the night was quiet.
When they reached the front door of the hotel, Dom was overwhelmed by a feeling of uncertainty he hadn’t had since he’d been an insecure teenager. But something in Zanna’s face when she started to bid him goodnight spurred him to say, “So what you said before, about escaping all the hugging and kissing? Think you can tolerate a goodnight hug?”
She laughed aloud and Dom knew he didn’t want to let this magical woman go, not yet. He gently wrapped his arms around her in a long embrace and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift back to that day years ago and the girl he’d yearned for throughout high school. He wished the night could last forever.
