Officer and the Secret (Semper Fidelis. Always Faithful.)

by Murray, Jeanette

  “Well, math was my best subject, so if you need help, I’ll be your study buddy.” The suggestive purr in his voice made her shiver, both with delight and apprehension. These feelings, still so new, almost scared her in their intensity. And she immediately retreated from the fear into her old personal.

  “Thank you for the offer.” The cool distance in her voice made her want to cry. This reaction had to stop. She would end up chasing him away at this rate, just like her parents did to anything that might bring her pleasure when she was with them.

  Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  Of course he noticed.

  Dwayne cleared his throat a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Right. Well. I was calling to see if you work tonight.”

  She forced more warmth into her tone. “I worked this afternoon. Why?”

  The pleasure was clear through the phone. She could almost picture him standing there, smiling broadly. “Then, Miss Veronica Gibson, I would love the pleasure of taking you out on a date.”

  The words, in all their Southern gentleman glory, made her giggle. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked out. But it was the first time she wanted to leap up and shout, “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” So she overcompensated by meekly squeaking, “Yes, please.”

  Yes, please? She let her forehead drop to the desk, not even minding when it banged harshly.

  He only chuckled. “Good. Tonight at eight? That work okay for you?”

  “Yes.” Progress. She didn’t squeak this time.

  “See you then, Miss Veronica,” he crooned as he disconnected the phone.

  Veronica tossed the phone onto her bed and sat back. What was it about Dwayne that made her so nervous? Was it his size? No, that wasn’t right. He was large, definitely. One of the biggest men she’d ever met. But never once had that intimidated her. Maybe because along with his size came such a gentle personality, a kind understanding of other people’s feelings.

  Maybe his job then. But that wasn’t really true either. She’d known Tim for months now, and he was a Marine as well. No nerves with Skye’s husband.

  So it had to be the way she felt about him. Her hands shook just a little as she stood to look through her meager clothing. He’d already seen her in everything remotely normal. That only left the last dredges of her old wardrobe—ankle-length skirts and blouses that covered her to the wrist and up her neck. Nothing wrong with those clothes, if that’s what a person liked. But it’s not what she wanted. Not in the slightest. They’d been what her parents forced upon her, and she hadn’t been willing to rock the boat.

  Well, she’d just have to create something out of one of the outfits he’d already seen. Her budget from the restaurant left almost nothing extra from month to month. Maybe she could borrow a top from Madison or something. That’s what girlfriends did.

  And here she was, standing in front of the closet, dying to know what he would think of how she was dressed. For twenty-six years, clothes were nothing more than something she put on daily to protect her modesty.

  Modesty—and its preservation—took on a whole new meaning when she thought about Dwayne looking at her. Sitting on the bed, she closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands skimming down her sides, the way she wanted him to keep going, that she had no intention of stopping him at all.

  Scary. And thrilling. Which one she’d feel more if she let him continue, she wasn’t sure. But, she realized, she wanted to find out. That was something she was positive about. Looking down, she saw her hands had ceased their shaking.

  Decision made, she stood again to pick out an outfit with more confidence. She was twenty-six years old. And she’d been saving herself because someone else insisted it was the right thing to do. But she was on her own now, and it was her choice, her body. And if she wanted Dwayne Robertson to make love to her, she would.

  And she wanted. She wanted very much. But first, she needed to test how far she had come.

  ***

  I’m ready for a change.

  Veronica stared in the mirror and forced herself not to wince as the pair of scissors came closer.

  Skye stood behind the stylist, a frown on her face. “Sweetie, you look a little green. Are you sure you want to cut that much off? Maybe a compromise, somewhere in the middle.”

  Your hair is your crowning glory.

  “No,” she said, a little more forcefully than necessary. She smiled in apology at the stylist and tried again with a softer tone. “No, I’m sure. I need to change things up.”

  The stylist nodded and fluffed her hair between her fingers. “Honey, I can’t argue with that. This is the longest hair I’ve seen since beauty school. We won’t go too short. But taking a good deal of length off will make you feel so much different.” She gave the back of Veronica’s head a more thoughtful glance and ran her fingers through the hair, measuring the texture and weight of it. “I think it’s actually long enough to donate. Are you at all interested in donating?”

  She hadn’t even thought about it, but the stylist told her enough to know that it was worth doing. If she was going to leave the hair behind, at least let someone else benefit from it.

  “Good. That sounds good. Let’s do that.” She settled deeper into the chair, staring straight ahead. “Skye, I’m fine. You can sit in the reception area. You’ll get bored standing there.”

  With one last worried look, Skye left and the woman pulled her hair into a loose ponytail in the back.

  She watched once more as the stylist picked up the shiny shears on the table in front.

  “It’s okay if you close your eyes,” the woman whispered, giving her a small smile in the mirror.

  “Thank you.” She breathed and did just that. The first snip, taking all the weight from her hair, was like a bomb exploding in her mind. And she instantly wanted to scream, “Stop!” and run like the wind. But the damage was done, she realized when the woman placed the ponytail on the table in front of her, eye level. She could always grow it back if she wanted.

  This is what I need. It’s just hair. But the change had to start somewhere. She needed to know what it felt like to make her own choices… starting with a small one.

  As the woman swapped out scissors for a smaller pair, she shook her head. The lightness was unbelievable. No heavy mass weighing her neck down.

  Symbolic, that.

  The woman took up her post in back and tilted Veronica’s head down gently so she stared at her shoes. “So why the big change?”

  “Hmm?” Veronica closed her eyes and kept them closed.

  The woman talked easily as she snipped here and there. Thank God Veronica didn’t have to look. It would have driven her nuts to see even more hair fall bit by bit. “The way I see it, this is a drastic change for you. Nothing wrong with that, but it usually comes because of—or in spite of—something else in that person’s life. Is it a new job?”

  “No.” The panic in her chest started to ease a little. She took a few more deep breaths and realized that truly, this wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be.

  “You won the lottery.”

  She laughed. “If only.” Yes, the fear and panic had definitely receded. Maybe they weren’t even real. Maybe it was just her body—her mind—playing a trick on her. Reminding her of what the consequences would have been had she done this while still with her parents. Instinct at play, rather than her own thoughts and feelings.

  That angered her more than anything. That her own mind didn’t know what it wanted, its own instinct was to fall back to what she had lived for the past twenty-six years, rather than to move forward to the life she wanted.

  It would change.

  “Has to be a man, then.”

  No. Not really. True, her date with Dwayne had set the idea to do this today in action. But the pure rebellion of the act… that was all her. And for nobody else. She w
anted a change, and she was starting here. Something so small, so inconsequential to some women. A haircut. A new look. But for her… it was like a talisman signaling her true freedom from her old life. The last little bit of the old that needed to be shed… or sheared, as it turned out.

  The hair dryer ran a little, and she kept her eyes closed until the chair spun enough to make her a little dizzy.

  “Here we go, sweetie.”

  She didn’t want to look. What if her first true act of independence was a disaster? What if she looked like a rabid chipmunk?

  Then you’ll buy a hat. Open your eyes.

  She peeked with one eye, then opened both wide with shock. Where was she? She wasn’t facing the right mirror—

  Oh. Oh, she was…

  Veronica’s eyes watered a little, and the stylist gave her shoulders a pat. “I’ll go get your friend.”

  She could only nod in response. As she walked away, Veronica shook her head a little, watched as the strands of hair danced, then fell back into place.

  It wasn’t short. Not even close by normal standards. Her hair brushed past her shoulders, still long enough to pull into a ponytail or braid. But short enough that she wouldn’t sit on it, or struggle to brush it every morning, or dry it.

  More than the practical aspect… she just liked how it looked. She was younger almost. Not too young. But it was as if, along with that long rope of hair that the stylist took off, the exhaustion and fear she had been living with was also cut away. As if she was truly cutting away the last of her old life and ready to step out into the life she had always wanted.

  As far as haircuts went, this was nothing short of a life-changer.

  How much did someone tip for a life-changing event?

  “Oh my… Veronica.”

  She looked up to see her cousin’s face in the mirror above hers. Skye’s eyes were wide, a hand covered her mouth. And she had no clue if this was a good sign or a bad one.

  “Do you like it?”

  Skye just stared a little.

  Her cousin, the one who could never stop talking, never hold anything in, was speechless.

  Finally, she lowered her hand and rearranged her face until it was impassive, completely neutral. “I think the question is… do you like it?”

  She looked once more at the new her. The one without the world’s problems on her shoulders. The one who was ready to make her own choices and do so without any fear. Who was twenty-six years old, damn it, and ready to make love with a man she liked and respected.

  “Yes. I like it very much.”

  Chapter 14

  Dwayne stood on the front porch, reliving his late teens. Only this time, he was driving his own—newly cleaned out—truck instead of his mom’s twenty-year-old Buick, and he didn’t worry that a well-meaning father would open the door and interrogate him for an hour before they left.

  But when Veronica stepped out onto the dimly lit porch, he found himself wanting to know where his date really went, and who the woman standing in front of him was. Because this was not the Veronica he saw last.

  Her hair, usually so long and pulled back into a tight braid, was free and drifting down to just below her shoulders. That in itself was unbelievable. But her outfit was another shocker, and in a good way. A cute little tank top with only the thinnest straps over her pale shoulders covered all the right stuff, and would have been almost modest by another woman’s standards. But on her, it was unbelievably sexy. Maybe it was the contrast from such buttoned up shirts with long sleeves to this. Her jeans weren’t skin tight, but they didn’t hide her figure either. And the heels.

  He’d be thinking about those heels later tonight. In his dreams. Or maybe nightmares. The difference likely depended on how the date went.

  And that was a jackass thing to think. He held out the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on impulse on the way over. Truthfully, he would have arrived at her place almost half an hour early if he hadn’t stopped for the buds, looking like a creep who was too anxious for their date. So they served a dual purpose. And he couldn’t even be remotely sorry he’d bought them when her eyes went so soft, almost liquid with pleasure.

  “Oh, Dwayne. Thank you.” She did the girly thing and sniffed a little, petting the individual blooms with one delicate finger. He shifted. This was definitely too early to be having the thoughts that raced through his mind as he watched one fingertip trace the soft skin of one closed rose.

  “Well, I figured we’d been dancing around this long enough that you deserved the works.”

  She smiled at him absently, still looking at the flowers as if they were completely foreign to her. Had nobody ever brought her a handful of blooms before? The simple, almost mindless gesture on his part suddenly seemed much more important.

  “I’ll just slip back in and put these in—”

  The door slid open and a hand darted out to carefully snatch the blooms. “Got ’em. Have fun!” And the door snapped shut again.

  Dwayne stared at the peephole. “Was that Madison?”

  “Yes, it was.” More loudly, Veronica said, “And she can stop spying on me anytime now. Go do something else.”

  “Love you too!” was the cheerful reply through the door, just before the dead bolt slid home with an obvious snick.

  Veronica stared up at him a moment, almost horrified. Then she jerked, as if she’d hiccupped. After another, then a third, he realized she was trying to hold back laughter, and he couldn’t stop the chuckle himself.

  “Oh, what the hell. Let’s go grab some food.”

  As he walked her to the truck, she stopped. “Dwayne. Did you have any serious plans for tonight?”

  He shook his head as he opened the door. “No. Nothing that can’t be changed. Why? Got an idea yourself?”

  “I think I’d just like to go back to your place.”

  He thanked God he’d already set her on the seat, because if he’d still been holding her waist, he would have dropped her in the parking lot. He cleared his throat. “Uh, my place. Are you sure that’s what you—”

  “I mean, we can just relax, right? Order a pizza or something? Watch a movie?”

  Right. Pizza. Movie. Not an invitation for a delicious and completely mind-blowing sex-a-thon. Of course. “If that’s what you want. But are you sure you don’t—”

  “Oh, yes. I do. That’s exactly what I’d like.”

  Having her home, shoes off, kicked back on the couch with nobody else there to answer to but himself, was going to be a huge test of his willpower. But with her staring at him, those big beautiful eyes working him over, how could he say no?

  “Yeah. I’ll take you home.”

  ***

  Dwayne led her up the stairs to his apartment. Twice, he knew she stumbled in her heels, but he didn’t say anything. She caught herself, and he knew that’s what she wanted. Turning around to steady her would have only been embarrassing. So he fought the urge to offer his hand and left her to her pride. But the adorable thought of her wearing heels on their date despite not being used to them was definitely not something he was going to deny himself. A caveman moment, sure. But if a man had caveman thoughts, and nobody knew… did they really exist?

  He opened the door and thanked whatever deity was listening that he had been bored enough to do a half-assed cleaning job the other day. He wasn’t a slob like Jeremy, but he was no clean freak like Tim either. The living room, though, was presentable. Maybe some dust, but not too bad. He at least liked to give the impression that he knew how to keep things neat. But he made no guarantees about what his bedroom looked like. Luckily, they wouldn’t be heading in there to find out.

  He watched, waited with an unease he didn’t really care for, as Veronica took a slow trip around his living and dining room, stopping to peek into the kitchen for a minute. Then she smiled.

  “You always he
ar the silly horror stories about men left to their own devices. But nothing too scary.”

  The sigh of relief was, luckily, inaudible. “Don’t look in the fridge then.” He shrugged out of his jacket, glad he’d worn a polo instead of a more uncomfortable shirt. Lounging required comfort. “I’m going to order the pizza. What do you want on it?”

  “Anything is fine with me,” she said, not looking at him. Crouched in front of his DVD rack, she seemed engaged in checking out his movie collection.

  “Are you sure? I like a lot of spicy toppings.”

  She tilted her head, glanced at him from the corner of her eye. And with a serious tone, said, “I’m willing to try some spice.”

  Their eyes locked for only a moment, then she broke the connection to continue perusing his DVDs.

  Okay. Was that comment meant to be suggestive, or was his imagination playing tricks on him? She said it so simply, without a hint or a wink or anything to give him a clue as to her motive. Either way, he turned his back so he wasn’t staring at her ass in those jeans while he called in the order. No rushing. You didn’t rush a woman when it was serious.

  And especially not one like Veronica.

  Not to mention, he still wasn’t sure exactly how his little… problem was going to handle taking the next step. Would getting wild in the bedroom trigger some sort of crazy response? God, he hoped not.

  The fact that he had to question himself only pissed him off. He waited until the moment passed before looking behind him.

  And there she was, standing right there. Only, a little shorter than before. She’d kicked off her heels, leaving them in a pile by the TV.

  “Sorry. I thought since we were relaxing, it’d be okay.”

  “Fine with me.” The sight of her toes peeking out from under the hem of her jeans was almost more erotic than anything he’d seen before. And how pathetic was that? “Did you find a movie?”