by Diana Hunter
John grinned. “That’s the spirit. Give ’em hell right back at ’em.”
That made her laugh out loud and John liked the sound. “We were together in the hospital unit,” she explained. She nodded with her chin as she picked up her wing again. “Ted and Shaheim were orderlies, Pete was another of the nurses. I never knew Sinbad real well, but you can tell which one he is.”
“The big, black, bald drummer?”
“Right the first time.”
“Not his real name, I hope.”
She laughed. “I doubt it. He never said much. Was pretty quiet.”
With Sinbad on drums, Ted on the bass and Shaheim on piano, Pete rounded out the quartet with lead guitar. With no introduction, they launched into a rousing rendition of Anchors Aweigh, getting the patrons to join in on the chorus. John had heard them play several times here at Parker’s and always enjoyed their liveliness. Watching them with Lauren, however, made him thoughtful.
He wasn’t concerned about the fact that she’d slept with Pete. That was over there and had no bearing on over here. No, there was something else. Another dynamic at play here he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
The band launched into the Army’s song and again, the crowd joined in to keep those “caissons a’rolling along”. From there they went to the “halls of Montezuma” in a salute to the nation’s Marine Corp. From experience he knew they’d launch into the “wild blue yonder” next. Beside him, Lauren chimed in on the choruses for each of the military songs, applauding and whistling with her fingers between her lips at the end. Her third beer was already gone. John knew that was going to be either very good or very bad.
“And now, I’d like to call on an old friend to come up here and sing the last song in this set.”
The band members exchanged puzzled glances. John frowned. The four songs of the armed units of the US military forces were the only four in this set. He knew their routine.
“Ladies and gentlemen, a special treat tonight. Fresh back home, the Siren of Iraq herself, Lauren Carr!”
The three guys in the band broke out in grins. John looked at Lauren, who stepped into the limelight with only a small smile of apology for him. She must’ve known what Pete was going to do and even though she’d protested, she’d decided to stay and sing. With mixed feelings, John watched her take the mike like a pro and nod to the others in the band.
The opening notes gave away the number and a smattering of applause greeted the familiar tune. For over ten years it had been the theme song of a popular TV series, although John doubted that more than a handful of viewers actually knew the lyrics. But he did. And so did Lauren. Her voice, a soft, sexy alto sang out the words, “Through the early morning fog I see…” She swayed with the music, losing herself in it. When she got to the words “suicide is painless”, John saw her close her eyes in pain and he had to wonder just how much was an act. Why hadn’t he put it together earlier? MishMASH they called themselves. They started every evening with the same four songs to salute the military. He knew they were all former soldiers, but it never occurred to him that they might have served together in a hospital over there. Not until Lauren stood to sing that haunting song.
She finished, opened her eyes and bowed to the audience who sat mesmerized under her spell. Breaking it, she threw up her hands in a whoop and called out to the band, “Come on, boys, let’s finish with a flourish!”
Shaheim pounded out the opening notes of Great Balls of Fire and she and Pete shared vocals on the rousing number. Her eyes sparkled and her voice was incredibly good. She’d given him no hint of the talent that lay inside her. Her showmanship put the audience in the palm of her hand.
It ended and the house erupted in applause. She was a hit. Giving each of the band members a hug, she waved one last time to the audience and came to rejoin him at their table.
“I hope you don’t mind. That was…unexpected. And fun.”
“You’ve performed with them before.” John wanted to curse the inanity of the obvious, but he couldn’t quite figure out his feelings all of a sudden.
“I did.” She pushed away the remaining now-cold chicken wing and downed the rest of the beer, apparently not realizing she had just finished off his second bottle. The waitress had come through and cleaned out the three Lauren had already polished off.
“Do you want to stay for the rest of the set?”
She shook her head as if suddenly realizing he might be upset. “No, that’s okay. I’d rather not get into a prolonged conversation with them. We’d be here all night.”
John signaled for the check, paid it, and stood to go. By the time they left, the band had cycled through a ballad, another sing-along and was moving into a Coldplay piece. Lauren waved and blew them kisses they promptly returned and the two made their way out into the fading twilight.
Lauren felt light on her feet. The music had put her in a wonderful mood. She hadn’t sung like that since being home. They’d had some good times over there. The one-night stand with Pete she had brushed out of her memory and she gave it a mental swat as it tried to nag at her now.
And beer? How long since she’d indulged in a glass of beer? No, more than a glass. She giggled at the thought and, at John’s glance at her, tried to put on a straight face. Yeah, she’d had more than a glass tonight, that was for darn sure.
“I’m not drunk,” she announced.
“I didn’t think you were.” He handed her into the SUV with the same polite care he always took of her.
“You didn’t expect me to sing.”
He shrugged and closed the door. For some reason that miffed her. When he got in the other side, she confronted him.
“You didn’t think I could sing.”
“I never really thought much about it. You have a good voice.”
“Thank you.” He started the car and she couldn’t decide whether to pout or not. Hadn’t he just said she had a good voice? Why did she think she’d been insulted?
He took the turn to her apartment and she shook her head. Somehow she’d blown it tonight. Or he had. Not that she’d wanted to go to bed with him tonight. Hadn’t she just told Beth she wanted something more? Why couldn’t she think straight?
The SUV stopped at the curb of her building, but John made no move to get her door as he usually did. He sat back, looking at her, and Lauren shrugged guiltily.
“Guess I probably shouldn’t have gotten up to sing. That wasn’t very polite of me to leave you at the table like that.” Did she just slur her words?
“Is that what you think?”
“You haven’t said a word since we got in the car. I don’t know what to think.”
John put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head toward him. Leaning forward, he gave her a chaste kiss. “I think you had a good time with some former friends.”
“I had a good time with you.” She smiled. “They just happened to be there. To be honest, I didn’t even know any of them were back in the States yet.”
“But you’re glad they are.”
“Of course I am.” She sat back, puzzled. “No one wants to see anyone left over there. Do the job and get home, that’s what I feel we should do.”
“Lauren, you’re drunk.”
She pulled herself upright, ready to argue with him. But then her breath came out in a rush. “Okay, you got me there. Not drunk, but certainly feeling no pain.”
“I’m going to take you inside and put you to bed.”
“Only if you’re going to crawl in with me.”
He chuckled and got out of the car, coming around to open her door. Lauren let him, deciding she liked this game of chivalry he played with her. He handed her down and she stumbled against his chest. Damn but she liked that chest. She put her palm on his shirt, feeling the strength of his pecs hidden beneath it. “You shouldn’t hide these muscles, you know. I’m betting they’re beautiful.”
“That’s it, young lady. You’re officially off limits now.” He picked her up and
carried her to the front door. “Mrs. Boorman is going to get quite the show tonight.”
Once inside, Lauren headed for the stairs for the short walk up to her apartment, but missed the first step. John laughed at her again and threw her over his shoulder. She squealed and it echoed in the stairwell. Lauren tried to shush the sound, but it just got louder.
“John, put me down. You’re going to wake the whole building!”
“It’s not me who’s doing the shouting.”
He deposited her, took the keys from her fingers and unlocked her apartment door. With a scoop, he picked her up again despite her protestations and carried her inside. Lauren nestled into his arms, feeling warm and cozy and once again protected. Damn him. Why was he always coming to her rescue? She didn’t need rescuing.
Or maybe she did. Despite what he thought, she wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, yes. And she wanted him.
John tucked the blanket firmly around her shoulders, effectively pinning her hands underneath. “I want to make love to you, Lauren Carr. But when I do, you will be fully awake, fully sober and fully willing to put yourself in my hands.”
“You’re not going to make love to me tonight?”
John smiled at the childlike simplicity in her voice. “No, Lauren. I’m not. I’ve a raging hard-on for you and I’m going to go home anyway. Good night.” He gave her a chaste goodnight peck on the forehead, smoothed her brow and watched her fall asleep.
He hadn’t lied about the hard-on. His pants were uncomfortably tight and temptation lay there looking sexy and ready.
But it wouldn’t be right. Damn his sense of chivalry. He shook his head, smiling regretfully at the snoring form of the woman he’d hoped to bed tonight. He sat on the bed and simply watched her sleep for several minutes. Several strands of hair had come loose so he leaned over and pulled out the combs holding it back from her face. Soft wisps of dark brown glided over her shoulders and John pushed them back with his fingertip. In sleep, the lines of her face softened and he saw what she must’ve looked like before. Before growing up, before getting older, before going overseas and living in that hell.
He dropped his hand to his side. He couldn’t judge her. He’d lived through the same hell and had the same scars. With a pang of regret, he stood. Just two old soldiers trying to put their lives back together, that’s all they were. He gave the blanket one last tuck, stood, and went home.
Chapter Six
Lauren woke the next morning, fully dressed, a mouth filled with cotton and with a more-than-minor headache. Somewhere close by a siren blared and as she rolled over, she realized the siren’s call came from the phone beside her bed. She grabbed the receiver and hit several buttons on it in an attempt to shut it up.
“Lauren? Lauren, are you there?”
Bleary eyed, she stared at it for several seconds before she realized her sister’s voice came from the receiver in her hand. She put it to her ear. “Yeah, I’m here. Although I might be dead.”
“Lauren, it’s nearly eleven and you said you’d be here before ten to help with the setup for—”
“Oh, my God. Annie, I’m so sorry. I overslept. I’ll be right there.”
She hung up the phone and only afterward realized her sister had been still talking. Throwing back the covers, she stared in confusion at the clothes she still wore from last night, the skirt a tangle around her legs, the T-shirt wrinkled and, she sniffed it, smelling like beer? How many had she drunk last night? She knew better than to drink more than one beer. Her inability to hold her liquor had been a big joke overseas.
Overseas. MishMASH. Singing with the band. She groaned. How could she have done that to John? Just left him like that and gone up and done an entire set? Was it an entire set? Or only a few songs?
It didn’t matter. He’d taken her out for dinner and she’d blown him off to hang out with…oh my God. Pete. She’d once had a fling with Pete. Did John know? Had she told him when she’d rambled on like an idiot about the band she’d “heard” overseas?
Groaning, she stripped out of her clothes. Hoping a shower would help and knowing it would only be painful, she turned the water on hot and forced herself to suck it up. Getting slightly more than tipsy had consequences and she might as well face them.
Her phone rang just as she searched for her keys. Tempted to let it go, she decided her sister had already yelled at her for being late, she might as well add a few more minutes to her tardiness.
“Lauren here.”
“How are you feeling today?”
Why did that little bubble have to form in her throat at exactly the moment she heard his voice? “Fine,” she croaked, cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fine, thank you. And you?”
The man had put her to bed and that was the best she could come up with? And you? Lauren rolled her eyes.
“I’m doing quite well, thank you. I need to spend some time at the Rundel Library and wondered if you’d like to join me for some Dinosaur Barbecue later.”
“Is there a band playing?”
She liked the sound of his laugh. Maybe he wasn’t mad at her for her heinous behavior of the night before.
“No band. Just good barbecue.”
“I have to go help my sister with her garage sale but I’ll be done by five or so.”
“Perfect. Meet me at the restaurant?”
“I’ll be there.”
Lauren hung up the phone, a smile on her face. Her behavior couldn’t have been too bad if he wanted to see her again. Of course, he wanted her to meet him there. That implied he didn’t want to have to take her home again. Could he be asking her out to let her down easy? The Dinosaur Barbecue wasn’t exactly a romantic place. It had begun life as a biker-bar kind of place.
She tapped a finger on the phone, as she tried to puzzle it out. Outside a siren went by and Lauren jumped. Her sister’s—she was on her way to her sister’s and was already late. Putting thoughts of Big John to the side, she grabbed the keys John had so thoughtfully placed beside the phone and headed out the door.
“So that’s it. You’re meeting him for dinner tonight again and you think it’s to let you down? Lauren, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Lauren’s sister, Annie, put the littlest member of the family back into her playpen, gave her a toy and turned to Lauren. At thirty, Annie had settled, the twenty extra pounds from giving birth twice giving her a matronly air. “Ian, I can’t sell that if you’re playing with it!” she called out to her son, who at the moment was racing little toy cars along a long, yellow track.
“Aww, Mom. Do you have to sell this?”
“You haven’t played with it for three years. Yes, it’s going.”
Lauren watched her nephew careening the toy cars through the loop-de-loop he’d set up and nudged her sister. “It’s new again because he hasn’t seen it in a while. How much you want for it?”
“Two-fifty.”
“Sold.”
“Lauren, you don’t…”
Lauren held up her hand. “I’ll keep it at the apartment. Then when he comes over, it’ll be new again. By the time he’s totally bored with it, Kasey will want it.” She nodded at the little girl in the playpen who rewarded her with a toothless smile as she banged her hand on a toy drum.
“You’re a softie, Auntie Lauren,” her sister told her as she deposited Lauren’s money in the shoebox that served as a cash register.
“Yeah, well. I only have one nephew and one niece so far, so I might as well spoil them.”
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “And what about your own? Maybe this John is—”
Lauren held up her hand to stave off her sister’s words. “Stop right there. We’ve had two dates and dinner tonight will be the third. And probably the final.”
Annie backed down but Lauren could tell from the set of her lips the subject wasn’t closed. Thankfully a car pulled up and the couple got out to come up the drive and look over the stuff for sale. Lauren went into the house to get a pitcher of lemo
nade while Annie negotiated a price with them for an old stepstool that really only needed a new coat of paint.
“Sixty-six dollars and eighty-five cents,” Annie proclaimed at the end of the day. “Not bad for all the junk I got rid of.”
“You running this again tomorrow?” Lauren asked, surveying the meager pickings that were left.
“No. Let’s just box this stuff up and I’ll take it to the Salvation Army on Monday. Ian, go get the boxes from the living room, will you?”
“Aww, Mom.”
“Now, Ian.”
Lauren winked at her nephew who grinned in return and they headed into the house together. As Ian grabbed two large boxes, Lauren picked up her wallet from the kitchen counter and dropped it into her jeans pocket. She held the door for him then followed him back to the garage where Annie had already begun to bag up the leftover clothes Ian had outgrown.
“I’m headed out,” she told her sister.
“Give him a kiss for me.”
Lauren shook her head as Ian made a face. “You haven’t even met John.”
At the name, Ian’s face lit up. “John? Is that the Civil War guy? He let me hold his rifle!”
“Yes, Ian, the same John. I’m having barbecue with him tonight.”
“Cool. I like him.”
Annie grinned at her son’s approval. “You’ll have to bring him for dinner one of these nights. Or maybe next Sunday. We could do an old-fashioned Sunday dinner and—”
Lauren stopped her. “Annie. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I’m driving myself to Dinosaur Barbecue and eating messy ribs with a guy I’ve known all of a week. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
“Well you’d better get changed. It’s nearly five now.”
With a wave, Lauren walked to the street and down three houses where she’d parked her little runabout car. Five gears, manual transmission, four little chipmunks inside working their hearts out. She loved it. Great on gas, good on the road and just perfect for her.
