“You, my dear girl, are going to be on the cover of American Sweetheart.”
Marg heard her, but didn’t quite comprehend. “What?”
Gladys nodded, a huge smile stretching her cheeks. “You heard me. The Board decided yesterday after seeing your Mojave Desert shoot last month. It’s unanimous. You’re going to be the coveted American Sweetheart of the year. There will be a full exposé in the July issue. I knew you were going to get this.” Gladys leaned back in her chair. “The opportunities for contracts with companies like Classic Glamour and Fidal Exquisite will come rolling in the door. It doesn’t happen with all our girls, but I’m sure it will happen with you.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Gladys swept a ring covered hand through the air. “We all win, darling. The agency and you. But here’s the other big news.”
“More?”
“Of course more!” Gladys laughed. “This year’s issue is going to be dedicated to our servicemen. It’s high time. I’ve been pushing for this forever. The Board never wanted to do it because we’re situated in a Navy town. Stupid, I know. Finally, I got through to them that American Sweetheart is the best morale booster a serviceman can have.”
Marg liked the idea. American troops were situated all over the world. Having a magazine from home helped bridge the distance.
Gladys toyed with her pen, flipping it back and forth between two fingers. “Now, do you have any connections to the military?”
Patrick appeared in her mind and she abruptly pushed him out. “My Grandfather. He was a SEAL during Vietnam.”
Gladys clapped her hands. “Oh, my God, that’s perfect. Was he a hero?”
Marg nodded. “Isn’t everyone who serves in the forces? My grandfather didn’t make it home, but Grams told me he died a hero. I even considered joining myself.” The thought hadn’t completely evaporated. Her twenty-second birthday was next month. She had time to do anything she wanted to do. Then glumly remembered there was no one who would argue with her.
“Wow, you’re kidding? This is great, but…” Gladys rested her hands on the table, palms down, and eyed her. “There’s more to this, isn’t there? Are you by chance seeing someone in the Navy?”
“No. Nobody.”
“But you have in the past.”
Marg’s eyes rounded a little at Gladys’ cognitive skills. “Yes.”
“Honey, this is going to be outstanding. Maybe even the best American Sweetheart of the year we’ll ever have.” Gladys opened a drawer and scattered a group of stills on the desk. “Which one of these handsome men do you like the best? We’re going to do a few couple shots as well, to get the heartbeat going. If you know what I mean.”
Marg glanced at the smiles and posed images staring back at her. Her heart clenched a little when her gaze fell on one guy in particular. She couldn’t help herself. He looked a little like Patrick. His eyes were blue not silver, but he had the same body type, hair color and facial features. She pushed the photo with the tip of her finger as her heart swelled with hurt. She missed Patrick—a lot.
“I am so glad you picked him. I was thinking the very same thing. They’re all handsome, but he has something the others don’t—mystery. Women love the strong, silent type. Together you’ll have chemistry.”
* * * *
Two weeks later, driving along the strand, the top down on her car, Marg breathed in the salt air to ease her pulse before the cover shoot. When she arrived at the beach, she parked near the small group of people and equipment waiting for her.
“Sorry,” she called out, running across the sand. “I’m sorry, I had to help a friend this morning.”
Karen was having a rough day, and Marg lost track of time. She’d taken her to the doctor in L.A. for a checkup. The news wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. The disease had stopped its march forward, but hadn’t regressed either.
Cory, another of the American Sweetheart photographers, shrugged. “No harm, Marg. Like you to meet, Brody.”
A tall, broad shouldered man with tanned skin and rock-hard chest muscles turned his naked torso toward her.
“Hi, I’m Marg.” She held out her hand, introducing herself. He didn’t look a little like Patrick, he looked a lot like him. Uncanny.
“Marg Stines? Nice to meet you.” His gaze did a quick up and down and settled on her eyes. “I’ve seen your work. Impressive.”
She shrugged. Shyness always set in when someone complimented on her pictures. “Thanks and sorry, I didn’t mean to hold everyone up.”
“Let’s get on with it. Makeup,” Cory called out.
Marg shucked off her clothes down to a string bikini. Brody kept darting looks her way as the makeup people rubbed a thin sheen of oil over him.
“Marg, we’re going to do the couple’s shots first,” Cory said, adjusting the lenses on his camera.
She nodded. Brody wore a pair of camo pants. “Were you ever in the Navy?” she asked, trying to get to know him a little bit before the shoot. Modeling with a stranger always felt weird to her. Especially with a guy who would be touching and holding her in intimate poses.
The gal rubbing oil on Brody begrudgingly finished and he joined Marg. “Actually, I was. I did three years in the Navy.”
“Really? Why did you leave?”
Brody’s strong jaw cinched a little. “Had to take care of my family. My dad passed away. Mom couldn’t handle the farm by herself, so I went home to Wisconsin.”
Marg held her hair back from the wind whipping it in her face as the makeup artist worked on her eyes. “How did you end up modeling?”
“Got approached in the mall. Here in San Diego. I came back after we sold the farm and my mom was settled. I was thinking about signing up for another term when this woman intercepted me in the book store. I thought she was kidding at first.”
His warm chuckle soothed her pre-shoot jitters.
Cory shouted, “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”
Brody held his hand out to her. “Shall we?”
His fingers twined with hers, and she couldn’t ignore the niggle of excitement that ran up her spine. Not only did Brody look like Patrick, but he had a mysterious, noble aura about him. Throughout the shoot, he offered encouraging words and made small talk. He told her he’d been modeling for five years. In their line of work, that meant you were established. Most models gave up after a couple years if nothing happened to elevate them from shopping mall runway to a New York runway.
Brody stuck around for her solo shoot. He kept giving her small nods or a smile that made his handsome features light up.
She hugged Cory after the shoot and thanked the crew. Most models she’d seen usually ran off without so much as a goodbye. To Marg, a shoot was a team effort. Without their skills, she wouldn’t look half as good.
“Hungry?” she heard as she bent over to put her things back into her day bag.
“Kind of.” She laughed as she hooked the bag over her shoulder. “Actually, I’m starving.”
“Me, too. Join me for dinner?”
Should she? The decision took too long. She couldn’t stand here in silent debate.
“Yes,” she blurted.
The way she said it made him chuckle. “Okay then. Why don’t you leave your car here?”
“I can follow you.”
“You could,” he said, cocking his head with a sexy smile that carved hard ridges along his strong jaw. “But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to suggest a stroll on the beach after dinner.”
Her mind tumbled with turmoil. Why was this so hard? Patrick had chosen to leave her. She vowed she’d move on. She was about to say, “Where are you parked?” Instead she let out a deep breath, wishing she could bang her head against something hard. “Listen, I would love to go to dinner with you, but I think I’m going to ask for a raincheck.”
Brody didn’t probe. He reached into his knapsack and wrote his number on a piece of paper. “I hope you do, Marg.”
She
waved goodbye and headed home, only stopping at the convenience store to pick up a pint of Rocky Road ice cream, which she knew darn well she’d finish all by herself.
Around seven o’clock, Lydia called her.
“Want to come over for a movie and popcorn?”
“Be right over,” Marg said, then tossed the empty box of ice cream into the garbage, plucked her purse from the table and headed for the door.
Fifteen minutes later, she parked in the Reddings’ driveway. She saw Mary Lordson’s car and a few others she recognized on the street. When she walked into the house, several voices greeted her from the second floor.
“Helloooo,” she called out.
The smell of popcorn filled the air and her stomach grumbled. A week before her period, she could eat a house, and she usually caved to the pre-monthly demands.
Running up the stairs and around the corner, she saw the faces of wives and girlfriends she’d come to know. Mary and Lydia, of course, were her closest friends, but she’d met the other five girls squished together at the table, all of them belonging to SEALs from Team One. In a way, she felt like she was deceiving them. She’d only told Lydia about Patrick leaving her. Her friend hadn’t seemed concerned.
“Hey, Marg!” they greeted as she nudged in beside Mary. Three huge bowls of popcorn covered the table.
“What’s the occasion?” Marg asked.
Nellie, Stingray’s girlfriend, placed a spare glass in front of Marg and reach for the pitcher of Sangria. “Celebrating week twelve, apparently.”
“Week twelve?”
Lydia had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with her ever graceful stride. “The only easy day was yesterday, Marg.” She chuckled. “Each day is a day closer to having our men home.”
Marg held the glass, while Nellie poured. “I’m glad you called.”
Lydia bowed down. “Missing him is normal.”
“Missing sex is normal, too!” Carlie spouted. “That’s why we’re having this party.”
“Party?” Marg was confused. She thought they were watching movies. She prayed it wasn’t a romance on her way over because she’d probably end up blubbering like a big baby.
Carlie reached behind her and started placing items on the table as the girls hooted with excitement.
Lydia’s shoulders jerked as she laughed. “Movie night is our code word, Marg.”
“For what, exactly?” She examined the items on the table, and then her eyes grew with recognition. Holy shit. She’d never been to a sex toy party before.
Lingerie, vibrators, handcuffs with fluffy pink covers, and one very, very large chocolate colored dildo were placed symmetrically around the table.
Carlie stood and proposed a toast. “Until our men come home.”
“Here, here,” the girls shouted.
Mary picked up the large dark colored dildo. “Are they really this big?” she asked in amazement.
Carlie laughed. “Have you never watched a porn movie, Mary?”
“Um, no,” she answered, and her eyes darted around the table.
“Neither have I,” Marg admitted.
“Ladies,” Carlie said, taking the dildo and swatting it slowly against her palm. “Do I have a surprise for you.” And she once again reached into the bag she’d brought and laid four DVD’s on the table.
Okay, so they were going to watch a movie, just not a Disney classic. Least, that’s what Marg thought until she dragged over one of the DVD’s to glance at the cover. She burst out laughing until tears came out her eyes because it was titled, “Bambi gets Thumpered.”
Several batteries and bowls of popcorn later, Lydia closed the door on the last guest, but the way she stood in front of it told Marg she should go sit down, which she did. She fiddled with some cellophane wrap left on the table. Most of the girls had made at least one purchase, but she hadn’t. They had their husbands and boyfriends coming home to them. She didn’t, but a battery operated boyfriend wasn’t something she was interested in.
Lydia pulled the dining room chair closer and sat down beside Marg. “Are you shocked?” she asked.
Marg shook her head. “No, it was fun.” She flicked the piece of wrap from her fingers. “Took my mind off of Patrick for a few hours.”
“Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t purchase anything.”
Marg blushed. “Don’t really need any lingerie, I have too many pieces from my modeling shoots.” She paused, shrugged a shoulder and picked up a small bottle of gel that had been left on the table. “No use for anything like this.”
Lydia sat calmly listening, then swept a hand through Marg’s hair. “Our men are a confusing lot. They have desires and dreams, but what they see on their missions makes everything else frivolous. It takes time for them to acclimatize when they get home, and I think when Patrick returns, he’ll have a different view on what is important.”
Marg sucked on her bottom lip for a moment. “He said he loved me, but that didn’t stop him from leaving me.”
“He was hurt. Wouldn’t you be? Even if you knew it happened before you met?”
“I saw red when that blonde had her hands down his pants at Thane’s BBQ. I wanted to kill both of them.”
“And don’t you think Patrick would feel the same, especially knowing it was Thane?”
She nodded.
“Thane and Patrick will work things out, but Patrick’s feelings for you will only intensify while he’s gone. The one thing I know after being married to a SEAL all these years, is that coming home means everything to them.” Lydia put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “The water is boiling. I’ll make some tea. Let’s watch the late news.”
Marg nodded. She didn’t really want to go home to the empty apartment anyway. The local news covered events around San Diego and stretched into Los Angeles. A movie trailer and the next anticipated blockbuster rolled on for thirty seconds. She and Lydia sipped their teas and watched in silence while the sportscaster with his quick-paced commentary blurted the scores and teams like a Saturday afternoon auctioneer.
“We go now to our CNN correspondent in Columbia.”
A woman reporting from an airport, her hair fluttering while she stood on the Tarmac said, “I’m here in Bogota where local militia tell us a US Naval operation has resulted in one death.”
Both Marg and Lydia sat rigid, watching the report.
The correspondent continued. “It’s rumored the special operation was part of a raid to help local law enforcement agencies gain control of the ever escalating problems with drug cartels in this country.” The whine of a jet engine cranking up behind the reporter nearly drowned her out. “My sources tell me, although unconfirmed, the deceased military member is a United States Navy SEAL.”
Marg and Lydia slowly turned their heads to look at one another.
Lydia’s calm façade didn’t crack, while Marg’s heart raced in a chaotic beat. Where was Patrick? Barely able to voice the words, she swallowed past the knot in her throat. “Lydia, where is Alpha Squad? Do you know?”
Lydia nodded and said, “Remember what I told you. It may not be your SEAL or mine, but he belongs to one of us.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Forget about her.
She’ll move on.
Sweat poured down Patrick’s back as he ran the fence line of the compound. The musty, thick smell of jungle and rotting vegetation clung to the moist air and stuck to a man’s skin. With every step, Patrick’s mind hammered another phrase home to convince himself he hadn’t ripped out his own heart by telling Marg they didn’t belong together.
Lies. All of it lies to hide his pain.
While hidden in the jungle of Columbia on his first mission with Alpha squad, Pat couldn’t subdue his thoughts. Back home, Bruce was probably making his move on Marg, sitting on a restaurant patio, wining and dining her. Reminding her on which side of the tracks she belonged.
Pat pushed his muscles to the max, ignoring the exhaustion. Ignoring th
e thought he’d made a huge mistake. Why had he placed a wall between them? Extinguishing a future that he knew he should nurture not cremate? Because he didn’t have a bank account like Bruce? Or because he could see the woman he loved in his best friend’s arms in vivid detail.
Thane caught up to him, and Patrick stopped. He bent at the waist, his shirt soaked with perspiration. “What the fuck’s with the Road Runner act?” Thane huffed out.
Thane’s bigger frame slowed him down. He’d never been as fast. Patrick looked up and anger seized him just setting eyes on his swim buddy. They’d been assigned to Team One Alpha Squad. After Marg admitted she and Thane had slept together, Patrick hoped he would be given another team. He didn’t have much say in the matter. Both he and Thane were on the last leg of their training. If they passed, they’d both qualify for permanent positions. During the flight to Panama, he had to come to terms with what happened between Thane and Marg.
Staring at something other than the man he wanted to rip apart, Pat said, “Didn’t ask you to run with me.”
Thane stretched to his full height and glared at him. “Ever since we left San Diego, you’ve been a real prick, you know that?”
Pat thread his fingers through the metal of the mesh fencing. “I hate being fucking lied to.”
Thane’s expression snapped to attention. “About what?”
“Not what, it’s who.”
Thane’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m glad she told you.” He paused and then eyed him. “I’m sorry, buddy.”
Normally, Thane had a bad habit of opening his mouth too much, but he didn’t add anything to the apology. “I doubt that.”
With a flap of arms and a shake of his head, Thane huffed out another lungful of air. “I’m not saying I’m sorry I slept with her. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when you asked me.” Thane gave him a sideways glance. “We had a night, but that’s where it ended, and it was before you met her. Don’t hang on it, man. It better not be the reason you dumped her.”
“How do you know I did that?”
“Because she told me. She also told me to watch your sorry ass.”
Code Name: Forever & Ever (A Warrior's Challenge series Book 5) Page 30