by KB Winters
Once I finished unpacking the suitcase, I went to work on the garment bag that contained three more outfits. I needed the busywork to keep my mind occupied in the silence of the room. I hummed to myself as I plucked out my favorite performance number, a long red dress, that hugged my curves in all the right places, making me look about ten pounds lighter and always photographed well. A familiar sting ricocheted through my heart as I traced my fingers over the silky soft fabric, remembering that last time I’d worn it.
“It’s still my favorite,” I insisted stubbornly to myself, setting it aside to be steamed.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts before I could fully nosedive into reminiscing. I smiled to myself, figuring the soldier had raced back to get his autograph. I didn’t think it was close to dinner time, but in all the travel I’d completely lost track of time, or at least what time it was back home, the schedule my body was still stuck on. I pulled the door open and found Jenna, her camera crew, and a guy with a sound boom in his hands, ready to go.
Jenna smiled. “Ready to start filming?” She didn’t wait for me to answer before sweeping into the room.
I whirled around, watching as Jenna and her team snapped into action. “Now? I thought we were starting tomorrow?”
Jenna glanced up from her phone, a frown creasing her nearly wrinkle-free face. “We got word from Dale. The studio wants more personal content with the stars. And since you’re our biggest name, we thought we’d give you the first crack. We’ll get some of these questions out of the way and wrap before dinner and after that, I promise we’ll leave you alone so you can get some real sleep.”
I wanted to argue that I was exhausted but figured the shortest route to getting into the large bed in front of me, was to play along.
With a sigh, I nodded. “Right...Well, can I at least change and run a comb through my hair?”
“No need, the hair and makeup crew are on the way!” Jenna frowned down at her phone, as though just realizing they should have already arrived. She turned to one of the assistants in her wake. “Find them.”
The assistant nodded and hurried back out of the room, her steps echoed down the wide hallway.
Jenna, unruffled, started ordering her crew to get into place. “As you know, most of the TV special is going to be the actual concert, but Dale wants us to add an extra eight minutes of interviews with the stars.”
“And the soldiers?” I asked, shucking off my sweater to reveal the tank top below. It was too tight to wear on camera, but would pair well with my merlot-colored cardigan that I’d just unpacked.
Before I could find the button-up, the bedroom door flew open wide again and the hair and makeup team raced into the room with the now-frazzled looking assistant on their heels. Jenna stashed her phone and instructed the team, “Just a natural look. We don’t have a lot of time before dinner…”
I took the seat indicated, and the duo sprang into action, barely waiting for me to get seated at the desk before pallets of makeup, brushes, and cans of product were scattered over the top of the desk, obscuring the gorgeous wood.
As they worked on pulling me back together—no small feat after spending twelve plus combined hours in airplane air—Jenna took a seat on the loveseat and started rattling off questions. “This is going to be really easy, Sophia. I promise. We’re just going to talk about Christmas-y things. Your favorite memories, childhood traditions, and then we’ll wrap with you giving your best wishes to your family and friends at home. Let’s see here—” She tapped her finger down the front of her electronic tablet.
“This way, Sophia,” Gail, the makeup artist said, tapping gently on my chin.
Normally I kept an eagle eye on new makeup and hair crews, but I was too damned tired to care. My eyes drifted to the four-poster bed and I wished that I could bury under the covers and sleep for a week. “Can you open that top drawer and get the cardigan?” I asked Jenna, trying not to move my mouth too much as eyeliner was applied.
“Don’t worry about wardrobe,” Jenna said, tossing her tablet aside. She leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “I think that’s enough, guys,” she said, tossing a look at each of the two people working on me.
With a final coat of hair spray and a dusting with a clean brush under my eyes to remove any stray sprinklings of eyeshadow, they backed away. I grabbed for the mirror on the desk and looked. “Impressive. I almost look alive,” I muttered.
In reality? The story was a little bit different. The whole ugly, deplorable truth?
I was heartbroken.
It was the first holiday season since my nasty divorce and drowning myself in spiked eggnog wasn’t taking the edge off anymore. Especially not when I had to keep going back to the grocery store to get more, and was faced with the splashy, Christmas-card-perfect images of my ex-husband and his new fling, pop star Jackie—that’s right, just Jackie—ripped straight from her new calendar.
Barf.
In Iraq, I was thousands of miles away from the glossy pages of the rag mags that haunted me, but in the blink of an eye the images could come swimming to the surface with no warning.
“Here you go,” the assistant at Jenna’s side raced forward to hand me a large, cable knit sweater that buttoned up the front and was bedecked with tacky Christmas images. A reindeer, large candy cane, and a few shiny ornaments that were made up of sequence.
“Dale thought it would be fun to do some kind of ugly sweater thing,” Jenna explained with a wry smile as my eyes darted to her.
“Fun? Not sure that’s the right word…” I mumbled, shrugging into the two-sizes-too-big sweater. At least it covered up my overflowing cleavage…
“All right, let’s get the lighting—there, that’s better. Okay! We’re ready! You good, Sophia?”
I nodded, dropping my hands from pulling at the abomination of a sweater.
“Sophia Rossi, Christmas interview, take one.”
Jenna smiled widely, although she wasn’t in frame for the shot, and started her questions, “Tell us about what Christmas means to you, Sophia.”
I smiled, slipping into the public persona that I’d carefully crafted since my first album was released, nearly ten years ago, when I was only fifteen years old. It was as easy as putting on a raincoat after so many years of practice. “Christmas, to me, means spending time with my family and friends. My life, as a touring musician, can get a little hectic, with time on the road and living out of a suitcase. Most years, Christmas is the one time that I have some down time and go home to see my parents, my two brothers, and all my friends.”
Jenna held up her fingers, making an “OK” signal.
I softened my smile. “I wanted to come this year, to perform for the troops, because I know how much Christmas time means to me, and I wanted to do something to give back to them and bring a little holiday cheer into a time when I’m sure most of them are missing home and their own families and friends.”
Jenna and the team behind her beamed at me. She licked her lips and leaned forward again, preparing her next question, “Can you tell us about an important Christmas memory, Sophia.”
My smile widened only to completely crumble as suddenly the image from the Christmas the year before came flooding back to the front of my mind. Roberto, my ex-husband, and me gathered in the living room with our two dogs, a pot of spiced coffee brewing in the background, and the way he’d smiled when he presented me with a small, delicately wrapped gift box. It had contained a sparkling band of emeralds—my birth stone—to go beside my wedding band.
We’d had the perfect Christmas tree, a mound of immaculately wrapped presents, and a savory dinner to share with our house full of guests later that night. It was the perfect day. I’d had no idea that it would be our last Christmas together.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until a tear fell, splashing against the back of my hands that were folded in my lap. With a shake, I tossed aside the beaded tear and hurried to brush off the others that were threatening to spill.<
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“Sophia?” Jenna’s eyebrows were knit together. “Are you—”
I hopped up from the stool at the desk and raced from the room, barely getting into the hallway before the dam burst and the rest of the tears charged down my face.
Chapter Two - Derrick
As a staff sergeant with the United States Army, with three tours of duty under my belt, and a prominent position on the counter-intelligence unit, I’d say I was prepared for most anything that came at me, but even I was caught off guard when a brunette missile flew right into me, sending us both off-kilter.
The air left my lungs at the impact, but I managed to correct my course in time to catch the woman who’d rammed into me before we hit the floor.
“Oh my gosh!” The woman’s eyes flew to mine as she leaped out of my arms, realizing her mistake. Her dark, doe-shaped eyes were wide with alarm. “I am so, so sorry!”
I steadied my hands on her shoulders, making sure she was stable, as I looked her over. “Are you okay?”
She was a stunner—with long, glossy hair that was so dark brown I would have mistaken it for black if the light weren’t hitting it just right. My eyes dipped a little lower, past the delicate, heart-shaped face, and a smirk spread across my face as my gaze snagged on the pattern on her sweater.
She followed my eyes and her cheeks turned red. I grinned. Sorry that I’d embarrassed her. “You running late to help Santa and the reindeer with a delivery, or something?” I asked, barely suppressing a laugh.
The woman frowned as she tugged at the oversized sweater and grumbled under her breath, “Yeah, something like that.” She took a step to the side. “Sorry for running into you. I wasn’t paying attention.”
When she glanced up the second time, I noticed the glossy sheen over her eyes and the tracks in the makeup on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Was that why she didn’t see me? I looked in the direction from which she’d come and spotted a woman in a grey pantsuit coming from the rooms that were reserved for the performers that were staying at the base while putting on a Christmas show for the neighboring military units.
I recognized her a split second later. “Sophia Rossi?” I asked, staring back into her downcast face.
She tilted her face up and tried to force a smile. “Yeah.” Her eyes darted down the hall and she saw the woman headed our way. She didn’t bother to hide a small groan. “Do you know where I can go to get some fresh air or a cup of coffee?” she asked, looking back at me.
“Sure thing.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and started steering her down the hall before the woman in the suit could catch up to us. I buried my curiosity and didn’t ask what was wrong, and Sophia didn’t offer up an explanation—but she kept pace with my quick steps.
When we rounded another corner, stepping into a hallway that led to the mess hall and sleeping quarters, I led her toward a lounge area where a few chairs were arranged around a large, circular coffee table. Underneath the arrangement was a thick, hand woven rug, and my boots scuffed along the edge as I ushered Sophia into one of the chairs. “Sugar? Cream?” I asked her, kicking the edge of the carpet back in place before someone tripped on it.
Sophia glanced up, her gaze empty. “Um, black is fine.”
My kinda girl. Strong and straight up. “All right. Be right back.”
I wandered off, looking back once, before hitting up the nearby coffee station, aka a filing cabinet with a Keurig perched on top. I stuck a pod into the machine, pushed the button, and waited until the rich liquid filled the insulated cup. When the final sputters stopped, I grabbed the cup, capped it, and crossed back to sit in the chair beside hers. She accepted the coffee and took a tentative sip before setting it on the table in front of us. “Thanks,” she said, her voice stronger. “Jetlag is catching up to me, I think. Sorry for crashing into you back there.”
“No worries,” I replied, shooting her an easy smile. “Jetlag’s a real bitch. Where are you coming from?”
She hesitated for a beat and glanced me over, as though she was startled I was still sitting there with her. Her eyes caught on my name patch on my chest before moving on to the others, marking my rank, unit, and MOS. “New York. I live in Manhattan.”
My eyebrows went up. “Sounds exciting.”
She gave a little laugh. “I guess so…”
“I’ve never been.” Sophia’s eyes drifted to the cup of coffee and I wondered if she was wishing I’d leave her alone. Which got me wondering if I should be leaving…but there was something keeping my ass glued to the chair beside her. “You’re here for the Christmas concert, right?”
It was a lame attempt at conversation. Too obvious. I knew it, and from the crooked smile that formed on her lips, she thought so too.
But she humored me. Nodding, she said, “That’s right. I’m the headliner.”
Damn, she was gorgeous, especially when that smile played over her full lips. That was the reason I wasn’t getting up and wandering off. Wasn’t it? Or was it the evidence of tears I’d seen glimmering in those beautiful eyes when we first collided?
“Well, I’m Staff Sergeant Derrick Lawley, and on behalf of me and my unit, thank you for coming on over to visit with all of us. I know it’s been the buzz around here for the past few weeks. You’ve got a lot of fans here, waiting for the show.”
She leaned back in her seat and shifted a mischievous look my way. “What about you? Are you a fan?”
I chuckled at her bold question. “I know this is the part where I should tell you my favorite song or tell you about going to one of your shows when I was stateside, but to be honest, I haven’t really had a chance. The pleasure.”
She laughed. “Aha. Then how was it you knew who I was on first sight?”
I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck. Busted. “That you can thank my sister for. She’s a big fan.”
Sophia smiled, her eyes no longer showing the traces of tears. Instead, a glimmer of amusement reflected back at me. “I see.”
“I’m afraid I’ve only been exposed to her renditions of your songs, and she’s not the type to sing background. No, she’s more of a belt over the volume of the song playing on the radio. You never really had a chance to compete.” I pulled a face and Sophia giggled. “What she lacks in talent, she makes up for with sheer bravado.”
“I think I’d like your sister,” Sophia replied, still smiling up at me through thick, dark lashes.
I chuckled. “Sadly, you’re stuck with me.”
Her eyes raked across my chest again and this time I straightened in my seat, studying the look on her face as she took me in. I wished I was one of those guys ready with a suave line or whispered invitation. I was a man with a plan in every other area of my life, but with women—especially beautiful women like Sophia—I tended to flounder and stumble over myself.
“It’s nice to meet you, Derrick. Thanks for the coffee.” She paused and looked around. “I probably should get back though, before Jenna sends out a search and rescue party to find me and drag me back.”
I glanced around, waiting for the woman in the pantsuit to appear at any moment. “What are you supposed to be doing?”
Sophia frowned before answering, “Shooting an interview. The network that’s broadcasting the Christmas concert needs footage for the promotion slots that will play leading up to the show premiere.”
“Oh. That sounds cool.”
The look on her face suggested otherwise. She raked her fingers through her hair and shook it back over her shoulders. The simple move was impossibly sexy and got me wondering what it would look like fanned out around her head on the crisp white sheets in my bed back home in Georgia. The contrast of her dark hair against the bright linen and the way her skin would glow under the soft light of a full, Southern moon…
She sighed, snapping my mind out of my not-so-gentlemanly thoughts. “I’m just wiped out. It’s been a long few days…weeks, really.” Her expression changed again, the smile falling away from her lips, and the overc
ast look returned to her eyes.
“Well, if you’re looking for a way to kill some more time, you can come with me. I was on my way to grab a bite.”
She glanced up and after a moment, she nodded. “As long as the food here is better than the dog food on the flight.”
I laughed and stood from my chair, reaching for her hand as I pivoted around. “I’m not making any promises. But the cooks have stepped up their game with the holidays around the corner. It’s not like a scene out of M*A*S*H or anything.”
Sophia took my hand, her touch featherlight against my palm as I helped her up from her seat. The soft touch broke all too soon, only serving to remind me just how long it had been since the last time I’d held a woman’s hand. Mostly a symptom of spending the last sixteen out of eighteen months overseas. Currently, I’d only been in country for three months, but wedged in between this deployment and my last had only been a seven-week break. Barely long enough to see all my family and friends. Sure, I’d hooked up a few times, but never had time to get to that stage of a relationship where holding hands felt natural.
As I led the way to the mess hall, Sophia kept pace with me, her long legs easily matching my long strides. She was a good four inches shorter than me, but still tall—probably five-ten to my six-two. And every inch of her was soft and curvy. Even with that ridiculous sweater on it was easy to see she was working a killer figure.
“All right, so explain the sweater,” I said, my voice light and conversational as we walked the halls.
Sophia laughed and looked down at herself, as though she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Trust me…not my idea. Just for the promo.”
“Aha. Well that’s reassuring. I thought maybe your luggage got lost and you had to go searching through the lost and found at the airport for something to wear.”