by Diana Palmer
He started to open the door for her. But he paused. “Someone told me that you like The Firebird.”
She laughed nervously. “Yes. Very much.”
“The orchestra is doing a tribute to Stravinsky Friday night.” He moved one shoulder. He shouldn’t do this. But he couldn’t help himself. “I have two tickets. I was going to take Mom, but she’s going to have to cater some cattlemen’s meeting in Jacobsville and she can’t go.” He took a breath. “So I was wondering…”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, if you were going to ask me…?” she blurted, embarrassed.
Her nervousness lessened his. He smiled at her in a way he never had, his chiseled mouth sensuous, his eyes very dark and soft. “Yes. I was going to ask you.”
“Oh.” She laughed, self-consciously.
He tipped her chin up with his bent forefinger and looked into her soft, pale green eyes. “Six o’clock? We’ll have dinner first.”
Her breath caught. Her heartbeat shook her T-shirt. “Yes,” she whispered breathlessly.
His dark eyes were on her pretty bow of a mouth. It was slightly parted, showing her white teeth. He actually started bending toward it when his phone suddenly rang.
He jerked back, laughing deeply at his own helpless response to her. “Go to work,” he said, but he grinned.
“Yes, sir.” She started out the door. She looked back at him. “I live in the Oak Street apartments,” she said. “Number 92.”
He smiled back. “I’ll remember.”
She left, with obvious reluctance.
It took him a minute to realize that his phone was still ringing. He was going to date a colleague and the whole department would know. Well, what the hell, he muttered to himself. He was really tired of going to concerts and the ballet alone. She was a fed and she wouldn’t be here long. Why shouldn’t he have companionship?
Gwen got back to her own office and leaned back against the door with a long sigh. She was trembling from the encounter with Rick and so shocked at his invitation that she could barely get her breath back. He was going to date her. He wanted to take her out. She could barely believe it!
While she was savoring the invitation, her cell phone rang. She noted the number and opened it.
“Hi, Dad,” she said, smiling. “How’s it going?”
“Rough, or don’t you watch the news, pudding?” he asked with a laugh in his deep voice as he used his nickname for her.
“I do,” she said. “I’m really sorry. Politicians should let the military handle military matters.”
“Come up to D.C. and tell the POTUS that,” he murmured.
“Why can’t you just say President of the United States?” she teased.
“I’m in the military. We use abbreviations.”
“I noticed.”
“How’s it going with you?”
“I’m working on a sensitive matter.”
“I’ve been talking to your boss about it,” he replied. “And I told him that I don’t like having you put on the firing line like this.”
She winced. She could imagine that encounter. Her boss, while very nice, was also as bullheaded as her father. It would have been interesting to see how it ended.
“And he told you…?”
He sighed. “That I could mind my own damned business, basically,” he explained. “We’re a lot alike.”
“I noticed.”
“Anyway, I hope you’re packing, and that the detective you’re working with is, also.”
“We both are, but the general isn’t a bad man.”
“He’s wanted for kidnapping!”
“Yes, well, he’s desperate for money, but he didn’t really hurt anybody.”
“A man was killed in his camp,” he returned curtly.
“Yes, the general shot him for trying to assault Gracie Pendleton,” she replied. “He caught him in the act. Gracie was bruised and shaken, but he got to her just in time. The guy was one of the Fuentes organization.”
There was a long silence. “I didn’t hear that part.”
“Not many people have.”
He sighed. “Well, maybe he’s not as bad a man as I thought he was.”
“We want him on our side. He has a son that he didn’t know about. We’re trying to get an entrée into his camp, to make a contact with him. It isn’t easy.”
“I know about that, too.” He paused. “How’s your love life?” he teased.
She cleared her throat. “Actually, Sergeant Marquez just invited me to a symphony concert.”
There was a longer pause. “He likes classical music?”
“Yes, and the ballet.” Her eyes narrowed. “And no smart remarks, if you please.”
“I like classical music.”
“But you hate ballet,” she pointed out. “And you think anybody who does is nuts.”
“So I have a few interesting flaws,” he conceded.
“He’s also a military history buff,” she added quickly. “World War II and North Africa.”
“How ironic,” he chuckled.
She smiled to herself. “Yes, isn’t it?”
He drew in a long sigh. “You coming home for Christmas?”
“Of course,” she agreed. She smiled sadly. “Especially this year.”
“I’m glad.” He bit off the words. “It hasn’t been easy. Larry’s wife calls me every other night, crying.”
“Lindy will adjust,” she said softly. “It’s just going to take time. She and Larry were married for ten years and they didn’t have children. That will make it harder for her. But she’s strong. She’ll manage.”
“I hope so.” There was a scraping sound, as if he was getting up out of a chair. “His commanding officer got drunk and wrecked a bar up in Maryland, while he was on R&R,” he said.
“Larry’s death wasn’t his fault,” she replied tersely. “Any officer who goes into a covert situation knows the risks and has to be willing to take them.”
“I told him that,” her father replied. “Damn it, he cried…!” He cleared his throat, choking back the emotion. “I called up Brigadier Langston and told him to get that man some help before he becomes a statistic. He promised he would.”
“General Langston was fond of Larry, too,” she said quietly. “I remember him at the funeral…”
There was a pause. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. How do you feel about giving chickens the vote?”
He burst out laughing.
“Or we could decide where we’re going to eat on Christmas Eve, because I’m not spending my days off in the kitchen,” she said.
“Good thing. We’d starve or die of carbon monoxide poisoning,” he replied.
“I can cook! I just don’t like to.”
“If you’d use timers, we’d have food that didn’t turn black before we got to eat it,” he said. “I can cook anything,” he added smugly.
“I remember.” She sighed. “Rick’s mom is a great cook,” she replied. “She owns a restaurant.”
“She does? You should marry him. You’d never have to worry about cooking again.” He chuckled.
She blushed. “It’s just a date, Dad.”
“Your first one in how many years…?”
“Stop that,” she muttered. “I date.”
“You went to the Laundromat with a guy who lived in your apartment building,” he burst out. “That’s not a date!”
“It was fun. We ate potato chips and discussed movies while our clothes got done,” she replied.
He shook his head. “Pudding, you’re hopeless.”
“Thanks!”
“I give up. I have to go. I’ve got a meeting with the Joint Chiefs in ten minutes.”
“More war talk?”
“More withdrawal talk,” he said. “There’s a rumor that the POTUS is going to offer me Hart’s job.”
“You’re kidding!”
“That’s what they’re saying.”
“Will you t
ake it?” she asked, excited.
“Watch the news and we’ll find out.”
“That would be great!”
“I might be in a position to do something more useful,” he said. “But, we’ll see. I guess I’d do it, if they ask me.”
“Good for you!”
“Say, do you ever see Grange?”
“Grange? You mean, the Pendletons’ foreman?” she asked, disconcerted.
“Yes. Winslow Grange. He was in my last overseas command.” He smiled. “Had a real pig of an officer, who sent him into harm’s way understrength and with a battle plan that some kindergarten kid could have come up with. Grange tied him up, put him in the trunk of his own car and led the assault himself. He was invited to leave the army with an honorable discharge or be court-martialed. He left. But he came back to testify against his commanding officer, who was dishonorably discharged after a nasty trial.”
“Good enough for him,” she said curtly.
“I do agree. Anyway, Winslow is a friend of mine. I’d love to see him sometime. You might pass that along. We could always use someone like him in D.C. if he gets tired of horse poop.”
She wondered if she should tell her father what his buddy Grange was rumored to be doing right now, but that was probably a secret she should keep. “If I see him, I’ll tell him,” she promised.
“Take care of yourself, okay? You’re the only family I’ve got left.” His deep voice was thick with emotion.
“Same here,” she replied. “Love you, Dad.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He wasn’t going to say it out loud. He never did. But he loved her, so she didn’t make a smart remark.
“I’ll call you in a few days, just to check in. Okay?”
“That’s a deal.” His hand went over the receiver. “Yes, I’m on my way,” he told someone else. “Gotta go. See you, kid.”
“Bye, Dad.”
He hung up. She put the phone back in her pocket. It seemed to be a day for revelations.
She had a beautiful little couture black dress, with expensive black slingbacks and a frilly black shawl that she’d gotten in Madrid. She wore those for her date with Rick, and she let her hair down, brushing it until it was shiny, like a pale satin curtain down her back. She left her glasses off for once. If she wasn’t driving, she didn’t need them, and a symphony concert didn’t really require perfect vision.
Rick wore a dinner jacket and a black tie. His own hair was still in its elegant ponytail, but tied with a neat black ribbon. He looked very sharp.
He stared at her with disconcerting interest when she opened the door, taking in the nice fit of her dress with its modest rounded neckline and lacy hem that hit just at mid-calf. Her pretty little feet were in strappy high heels that left just a hint of the space between her toes visible. It was oddly sexy.
“You look…very nice,” he said, his eyes taking in her flushed, lovely complexion and her perfect mouth, just dabbed with pale lipstick.
“Thanks! So do you,” she replied, laughing nervously.
He produced a box from behind his back and handed it to her. It was a beautiful cymbidium orchid, much like the ones she had back at her father’s home that the housekeeper faithfully misted each day.
“It’s lovely!” she exclaimed.
He raised one shoulder and smiled self-consciously. “They wanted to give me one you wore around the wrist, but I explained that we weren’t going to a dance and I wanted one that pinned.”
“I like this kind best.” She took it out of the box and pinned it to the dress, smiling at the way it complemented the dark background. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Shall we go?”
“Yes!”
She grabbed her evening bag, closed the door and locked it and let him help her into his pickup truck.
“I should have something more elegant to drive than this,” he muttered as he climbed in beside her.
“But I love trucks!” she exclaimed. “My dad has one that he drives around our place when he’s home.”
He grinned. “Well, maybe I’ll get a nice car one day.”
“It doesn’t matter what you go in, as long as it gets you to your destination,” she pointed out. “I even like Humvees.”
His eyebrows arched. “And where do you get to ride in those?”
She bit her tongue. “Uh…”
“I forgot. Your brother was in the military, you said,” he interrupted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back sad memories for you.”
She drew in a long breath. “He died doing what he felt was important for his country,” she replied. “He was very patriotic and spec ops was his life.”
His eyebrows arched.
“He died in a classified operation,” she added. “His commanding officer just went on a huge bender. He feels responsible. He ordered the incursion.”
His eyes softened. “That’s the sort of man I wouldn’t mind serving under,” he said quietly. “A man with a conscience, who cares about his men.”
She smiled. “My dad’s like that, too. I mean, he’s a man with a conscience,” she said quickly.
He didn’t notice the slip. He reached out and touched her soft cheek. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. “I don’t have siblings. But I wish I did.”
She managed a smile. “Larry was a wonderful brother and a terrific husband. His wife is taking it hard. They didn’t have any kids.”
“Tough.”
She nodded. “It’s going to be hard to get through Christmas,” she said. “Larry was a nut about it. He came home to Lindy every year and he brought all sorts of foreign decorations with him. We’ve got plenty that he sent us…”
He moved closer. His big hands framed her face and lifted it. Her pale green eyes were swimming in tears. He bent, helpless, and softly kissed away the tears.
“Life is often painful,” he whispered. “But there are compensations.”
While he spoke, his chiseled lips were moving against her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. Finally, as she held her breath in wild anticipation, his lips hovered just over her perfect bow of a mouth. She could feel his breath, taste its minty freshness, see the hard curve of his lips that filled her vision to the extent of anything else.
She hung there, at his mouth, her eyes half closed, her skin tingling from the warm strength of his hands framing her face, waiting, waiting, waiting…!
He drew in an unsteady breath and bent closer, logic flying out the window as the wildflower scent of her made him weak. Her mouth was perfect. He wanted to feel its softness under his lips, taste her. He was sure that she was going to be delicious…
The sudden sound of a horn blowing raucously on the street behind them shocked them apart. He blinked, as if he was under the influence of alcohol. She didn’t seem much calmer. She fumbled with her purse.
“I guess we should go,” he said with a forced laugh. “We want to have enough time to eat before the concert.”
“Y…yes,” she agreed.
“Seat belt,” he added, nodding toward it.
“Oh. Yes! I usually put it on at once,” she added as she fumbled it into place.
He laughed, securing his own.
Her shy smile made him feel taller. Involuntarily, his fingers linked with hers as he started the truck and pulled out into traffic. He wouldn’t even let himself think about how he’d gone in headfirst with a colleague, against all his best instincts. He was too happy.
They ate at a nice restaurant in San Antonio, one with a flamenco theme and a live guitarist with a Spanish dancer in a beautiful red dress with puffy sleeves and the ruffled, long-trained dress that was familiar to followers of the dance style. The performance was short, but the applause went on for a long time. The duet was impressive.
“What a treat,” she said enthusiastically. “They’re so good!”
“Yes, they are.” He grinned. “I love flamenco.”
“So do I. I bought this old movie, Around the World in 80 Days, and it had a guy named Jose
Greco and his flamenco dance troupe in it. That’s when I fell in love with flamenco. He was so talented,” she said.
“I’ve seen tapes of Jose Greco dancing,” he replied. “He truly was phenomenal.”
“My mother used to love Latin dances,” she said dreamily, smiling. “She could do them all.”
“Is she still alive?” he asked carefully.
She hesitated. She shook her head. “We lost her when I was in my final year of high school. Dad was overseas and couldn’t even come back for the funeral, so Larry and I had to do everything. Dad never got over it. He was just starting to, when Larry died.”
“Why couldn’t your father come home?” he asked, curious.
She swallowed. “He was involved in a classified mission,” she said. She held up a hand when he started to follow up with another question, smiling to lessen the sting. “Sorry, but he couldn’t even tell me what he was doing. National security stuff.”
His eyebrows arched. “Your dad’s in the military?”
She hesitated. But it wouldn’t hurt to agree. He was. But Rick would be thinking of a regular soldier, and her dad was far from regular. “Yes,” she replied.
“I see.”
“You don’t, but I can’t say any more,” she told him.
“I guess not. Wouldn’t want to tick off the brass by saying something out of turn, right?” he teased.
“Right.” She had to fight a laugh. Her father was the brass; one of the highest ranking officers in the U.S. Army, in fact.
The waiter who took their order was back quickly with cups of hot coffee and the appetizers, buffalo wings and French fries with cheese and chili dip.
Rick tasted the wings and laughed as he put it quickly back down. “Hot!” he exclaimed.
“I’m glad I’m wearing black,” she sighed. “If I had on a white dress, it would be red-and-white polka dotted when I finished eating. I wear most of my food.”
His dark eyebrows arched and he grinned. “Me, too.”
She laughed. “I’m glad it’s not just me.”
He tried again with the French fries. “These are really good. Here. Taste.”
She let him place it at her lips. She bit off the end and sighed. “Delicious!”
“They have wonderful food, including a really special barbecue sauce for the wings. Want to know where they got it?” he asked mischievously.