by KB Winters
She laughed louder and I realized it was a true, belly-deep laugh. I grinned over at her. “I hope I never get that desperate for a wardrobe change,” she said, starting to unbutton the front. My breath caught in my throat as she shrugged out of the comical garment and revealed what I’d already known—Sophia was all woman, in all the best ways. In place of the sweater, she wore a tight-ass black tank top that was cut low—very low. With a generous amount of cleavage. And a silver necklace with a key on it that hung between her big beautiful breasts.
Suddenly, all eyes were on her, as we walked around a corner. Every hot-blooded male within proximity—and hell, some of the females too—all went wide-eyed at her. Sophia didn’t seem to notice. She looked up at me, completely oblivious to everyone around her, and asked, “Where are you from?”
“Uh—Georgia—” I spat out, managing to sweep my eyes from her distracting curves the moment before her eyes met mine. “Fort Benning.”
She nodded and glanced over my patches again. “And what do you do?”
“Counter-intelligence. I’m here training the newly formed local forces the tricks of the trade.”
“Wow! That sounds…dangerous.”
I shrugged, smiling down at her. “I’m still here.”
“How many years have you served?”
“Let’s see…going into my tenth year of service. I shipped off to boot camp three weeks after I turned eighteen.”
We took a turn and a large open room spanned out before us. The kitchens were on the other side of a long wall that had been painted with a mural. The room was filled with circular tables and fold up chairs. Most soldiers were on rotation and not in the mess hall so we had our pick of a table. I set a hand on Sophia’s lower back and guided her to a table a few yards into the room, mostly to get a chance to hold her closer for a moment longer and breathe in the subtle rose perfume still clinging to her through the dust and stale airplane air she’d likely been swamped in the past two days.
When she was seated, I slid in beside her and handed her a laminated sheet that spelled out the different choices for meals. “I’m going for the Salisbury. What about you?”
She scanned the menu quickly before declaring, “Spaghetti.”
“That was fast.”
She laughed. “I’m Italian. Can’t turn down a good pasta dish.”
“Fair enough.” I pushed up from the table. “I’ll be right back then. Anything to drink?”
“Iced tea?”
“Sure.”
I wandered off, halfway fearing that a pack of guys that had caught sight of her in the hallway would swoop in and steal her attention while I was off ordering our meals.
Sure enough, when I returned a handful of minutes later, three guys were seated around her at the table, taking up all but two of the chairs. I groaned a little but plastered on a smile as I neared. I slipped the iced tea in front of her and then fished a packet of sweetener from my pocket. “Hey guys, off shift already?” I eyed the three men and took my original seat beside Sophia, tempted to sling an arm over the back of her chair.
Wallace, Percy, and Hopper—none of them should be in the mess hall.
“We were just saying hello to Sophia,” Jackson Wallace, a beefy knucklehead of a Sergeant said, grinning at me like the cat that ate the canary.
The other two stooges nodded in agreement.
Sophia glanced over at me and smiled. “Thanks for the drink.”
“You’re we—”
“If you want something a little harder, you let me know. I got the good stuff stashed in my CHU.”
Sophia frowned a little but quickly recovered, offering Jackson a friendly smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. But, um, for now…” she glanced at me, “Mr. Lawley and I need to finish our meeting.”
“Meeting?” Dan Hopper repeated, all three men raising their brows.
I tried to keep a poker face and play along. Sophia glanced at me, her eyes widening, looking for a lifeline. I placed my hands on the table. “That’s right. We were talking about the interview segment the producers want me to do. Sophia’s giving me some tips.”
All three of them scoffed. Wallace looked particularly annoyed. “How’d you swing that, Lawley?”
“Yeah, whose ass did you have to kiss?” Hopper added.
Sophia suppressed a smile and looked to me for the answer.
“I didn’t have to kiss any ass. I just have a more camera-worthy face that you three mutts.”
“Whatever, Lawley,” Hopper replied, shoving up from his chair.
The two others followed suite and they all slunk back out into the hallway.
Sophia laughed softly at their exit and glanced up at me through those thick lashes. “Friends of yours?”
I chuckled. “Something like that.” I grinned over at Sophia. “Guess you wanted me all to yourself, huh?”
She laughed again, this time adding a slight roll to those beautiful eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I just spent thirty-six hours traveling with Blake “can’t-keep-his-hands-to-himself” Powell. I wasn’t in the mood for more bad pickup lines or innuendos.”
“Damn, guess I’m gonna have to put a pin in all my lines, huh?”
Sophia’s eyes sparkled. “Please try.”
I leaned in slightly and smiled at her. “I’ll do my best.”
Chapter Three - Sophia
Despite Derrick’s promise to keep his pick-up lines to himself, I was hook-line-and-sinker for his quiet charm anyways. He was the perfect gentleman, serving me my dinner, making sure my glass of iced tea was always full, and cracking enough jokes to keep my mind off the box of memories that had poured out back in my room, under the light of the production crew camera.
“How did you get into the music business?” he asked, lounging back as though pacing himself as he worked through the meal before him.
I set down my fork and wiped at the corners of my mouth. “Believe it or not, I won a series of talent shows my freshman year. It was kinda before the whole YouTube explosion. So, schools in our state held talent competitions and it escalated up until the state level. At the championship, there were a few scouts in the audience, looking for the next big thing, I guess. Anyways, after the show, my parents got a call from an agent who wanted to represent me. And that was kind of it…”
“Wow. A one in a million shot, I guess?”
“Pretty much.” I smiled down at my plate and picked at the edges of the bread bathing in a pool of marinara. “Kismet. That’s what my mom calls it.”
“I like that. Kismet.”
I glanced up at Derrick, getting momentarily lost in his dark eyes and the lines around his mouth when he smiled. He embodied tall, dark, and handsome—which, for better or worse, was my type. And his desert camo fatigues weren’t hurting my feelings either…
“What about you? What made you join the Army?”
His eyes went a shade darker. “I was in the ninth grade when 9/11 happened. Up until then, I wanted to be a photographer. You know, the kind who go to all these amazing places for National Geographic or those travel magazines?” I nodded and he continued, “That all changed after that horrific day. It lit a fire inside of me to do my part to keep something like that from happening ever again. I mean, I was only thirteen or fourteen, so when I was old enough, I talked to a recruiter and the summer after my senior year, I went to Fort Benning for boot camp and never really left.”
“So, that’s why counter-intelligence?”
Derrick nodded. “And eventually, when my time in the Army is done, I’d like to work for the CIA. Counter-intelligence is a direct path to a career in Langley.”
“Wow. You’ve got it all mapped out.” I smiled.
“Guess so.”
“I’m the same way with my career. I started young and knew what I wanted to do, so I get super focused on my next step. A lot of my friends I went to school with are just getting started in their careers or still in school, trying to figure it all out. Sometimes it
makes me feel like an old woman. I’ve already been in my field for years.”
Derrick laughed. “Yeah, I get that. Although I’ve found it to work both ways. Most of my buddies back home are married, with kids, and buying houses and minivans. I have a tiny apartment in Georgia, on the base, and drive the same car I bought after graduating from AIT. So, in that regard, I feel a little behind.”
“There’s that,” I agreed, setting my fork down again. “And hey, as a woman, I get the added pressure from every woman’s magazine reciting the odds of marriage after thirty, or spouting tips for freezing my eggs…” I shook my head. “Sorry…side rant.”
Derrick chuckled. “No worries. I wouldn’t want anyone telling me to freeze my eggs either. I’m more of a scrambled kind of guy.”
I shoved his arm playfully. “You’re a little cheesy, huh?”
He laughed. “I just like the way you smile. If cheesy is what it takes, I’m willing to go full on cheddar.”
I laughed, really loud at his statement. “Thanks. I appreciate it. It’s been a really rough year…”
“Yeah. I’ve had a few of those myself.”
I glanced up at his statement, wondering what he was referring to. I imagined they were a lot darker than mine. The life of a career soldier that spanned years of war was probably a lot more intense than a divorce. What had he seen? Done? Had he lost friends in battle? Had he seen people die? His friends?
I shoved aside my nosy questions and offered him a small smile. I couldn’t ask him to delve into his personal pain, even though for whatever reason I found myself drawn to the shadows in his eyes. It wasn’t any of my business and on top of that, I didn’t feel like spilling my own guts. So, instead, I pushed my plate away, set my napkin beside it, and said, “Thanks for dinner and for cheering me up.”
He tipped his chin. “Any time. Maybe we could do this again sometime. Before you jet set back to the Big Apple.”
“I’d like that,” I said quickly, before my over-analytical mind could run wild with questions as to what the invitation meant.
Derrick smiled, the soft lines around his mouth deepening. “What’s your schedule like while you’re here?”
“I’m not really sure off the top of my head. It’s all stashed in my phone, which…” I stopped to pat at my pockets, “—appears to be missing.”
Before I could offer him my number, my eyes snagged on a cluster of people just inside the doorway. I frowned. “There’s the rest of my crew…”
Jenna spotted me and made a beeline over to the table. Her expression was a mix of frustration and concern as she leaned over. “Sophia, are you all right? I was looking for you, but you just kind of disappeared,” she paused, her eyes drifting over to Derrick. Her lips formed a little “O” as though just realizing I was with someone.
“I’m fine, Jenna. Just needed a break.”
Jenna straightened and offered a tight-lipped smile. “Sure thing. After you’re done here though, we really need the rest of the footage. Dale’s already emailed three times asking for the footage…apparently, he doesn’t understand travel delays.” She rolled her eyes to herself and then flashed a forced smile at Derrick.
I placed my hand on the table, centimeters from Derrick’s, not daring to reach out and touch him. “Maybe you can come to the show tomorrow night?”
Derrick, without missing a beat, replied, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
I smiled, my cheeks warming from the simmering frustration over being tugged away before Derrick and I could finish making plans. Jenna wasn’t even my manager, she was just a lackey for the production crew. Why was I taking orders from her?
Like it or not, I didn’t want to make waves, especially in front of the production crew that were standing behind Jenna. I pushed up from the table and glanced at Derrick. He fished a card from the pocket over his heart and handed it to me. “Here’s my card, email me anytime or call my direct line from the VoIP system.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and took the card, not missing the way his fingers brushed over mine as he passed it off. “I’ll see you tomorrow after the show.”
Derrick flashed one final smile, his eyes dark, dancing with mischief that made me shiver. “Looking forward to it.”
****
“Who is that guy?” Jenna hissed once we were far enough away Derrick couldn’t hear.
From the look on her face, she was just as struck by him as I was.
I shrugged, trying to appear casual when my heart was still pounding in my chest from the all-too-brief meeting with one of the most devastatingly handsome men I’d ever met. Which was saying something, since I’d met most of the hottest actors in Hollywood and all the top musicians that had packs of women panting in their seats during every show. “His name is Derrick. I just met him.”
“Lucky girl!” Jenna squealed. “Sorry I had to pull you away, but I’m already on thin ice with Dale and the studio. I’m afraid I’ll get back to LA and find my desk boxed up in the hallway.”
“How come?”
Jenna escorted me back through the maze of hallways that I’d barely noticed before because I’d been too busy trying not to stare at Derrick. The rest of the acts were back in the dining hall, but we were on our way back to my room to finish the interview so that Jenna could fire it off to Dale, hopefully before he had a shit fit. I’d only met Dale a handful of times over the past few months as we planned the tour. He didn’t strike me as a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. Jenna probably had reason to fear his wrath.
She huffed, tossing her long, chestnut hair over her shoulders as she pushed into the bedroom I’d abandoned. “I fucked up the last production I was working on. It was a stupid mistake but it cost the studio a lot of time and money to fix. I’m sure this assignment is my punishment. I was supposed to be home for Christmas this year. Instead, they drop kicked me to the desert.”
I winced. I’d volunteered to go on the trip and had plenty of time to notify my family and friends, all of whom were fine with putting off plans for the week after, when I would return home again. “I’m sorry…do you have kids?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not even a boyfriend at the moment. Although, I guess that might be a plus, with all these hottie soldiers walking around. Damn! If you’re not scooping up Mr. Fuck-Me-Eyes, I’d be more than happy to provide him with some Christmas-time company…” She winked at me and then strutted back to the chair she’d occupied before.
A snappy retort raced to my lips but I bit it back. I had no right to go around claiming men as mine. Besides, it was probably best not to piss off the woman who was responsible for my schedule for the next ten days. I smiled at Jenna, playing off her comment, and ran my fingers through my hair. The waves created from the tight bun I’d worn for the last couple of days were now cemented with hair spray and the more I fussed, the frizzier things got. I abandoned the attempt to comb my hair and turned to the mirror to swipe on a fresh coat of gloss from a tube that had been left on the desk. The camera man and lighting assistant got back into place and I took my seat.
“Wait! Where’s your sweater?” Jenna asked, suddenly horrified.
I glanced down. “Oh…I must have left it back in the dining hall. I can go—”
Jenna snapped her fingers and her assistant scrambled into action. However, as soon as the wide-eyed girl pulled the door open, Derrick was standing on the other side, hand raised to knock, his other gripping the sweater. Our eyes met across the room and the immediate smile on his lips melted me.
Jenna laughed, cutting me a wicked grin. “Cute and he pays attention to wardrobe details? I’d say he’s a keeper.”
Jealousy flushed through me as she strutted to the door to grab my sweater, pushing her chest out when she stepped in front of Derrick.
“I just figured it would be a national tragedy if this thing didn’t get some air time,” Derrick drawled, holding up the sweater, his eyes still shifted in my direction.
“Damn, and here I was trying to make sure that didn�
��t happen,” I teased.
Derrick laughed and handed the sweater to Jenna, who didn’t look all that amused. “See you tomorrow night, Sophia.”
A shimmer of anticipation worked over me as I nodded. “See you.”
He left after giving Jenna a polite nod and she shut the door again. “Seems you have an admirer,” she said, turning back to return to her chair. She smoothed her skirt and took her place, snapping at her assistant and the camera guy.
A bright light hit me in the eyes without warning. “Argh!”
“Ready?” Jenna asked.
The light adjusted and I blinked rapidly to clear the spots from my eyes. “Sure…”
Keep it together, Soph. Don’t go to pieces again. You’re better than that. And more importantly, he’s not worth your tears.
Jenna rolled her fingers and the camera man bent over his equipment. “Tell us what Christmas traditions are nearest and dearest to you, Sophia.”
I smiled and straightened my shoulders before beginning, “For me it’s all about the Christmas tree. Growing up, my family lived in a small rural town. We’d go up into the mountains and scout for the perfect tree. Once we all got done debating which one was the one, my dad and brothers would cut it down and we’d take it home. Then, my dad would spend an hour or so, shaping it and getting it set up just right, while we would eat Christmas cookies and sing along with the songs on the radio. Then, when he finally had it ready, we’d all rush in and start hanging the decorations. It’s always been my favorite tradition and even now, with my brothers and me scattered across different states, we all return to my parents’ house to hold up that tradition. We’re the Last Minute Lucy’s out hiking through the forest to get a tree two days before Christmas.”
Jenna smiled and continued, “Sounds lovely. Do you have a real tree then? Back home in New York?”
“Sure do.” I nodded. “Although it gets delivered now and professionally decorated.”
“Perks of being a star,” Jenna purred, a glint of something dark in her eyes as she smiled at me.
I shrugged, ignoring her pointed stare. I smiled for the camera, before retorting, “I suppose. It’s just a little harder in Manhattan. Most cabs wouldn’t be too happy if you tried to tie a giant tree to the roof of their car.”