One Star-Spangled Night

by Rogenna Brewer

  He thought about her question for a few beats. “Tony Scott wrote a personal check for $25,000 to turn the ship for the perfect shot of a sunset.”

  “Who’s Tony Scott?”

  “Ooh.” He made a jab at his heart.

  “Tony Scott was the director of Top Gun. Only the biggest recruiting commercial in the history of the Navy. In the summer of ’86 recruiters set up booths right outside of theaters. Officer recruiting was up 500 percent that year. Everybody wanted a cool call sign. I joined the Navy because of Tony Scott and that perfect sunset.”

  “Not for the cool call sign?”

  “Definitely for the cool call sign,” he admitted.

  Lindsey barely registered their return to the Navy Yard where he bought her a mustard dog to send her on her way. He’d kept her entertained the whole way back with Top Gun trivia. “What is your call sign, Captain?”

  “Another question for another day, Chaplain. But I will tell you launching into that perfect sunset is better than sex.”

  Heat infused her already overheated cheeks. “I’ll have to take your word for it on both counts.”

  “You know he was a jerk, right? That professor you admired so much. He would have taken advantage of you in a heartbeat. It’s a story as old as time. Older man, younger woman. Man is by far the weaker sex. We just can’t help ourselves.”

  Lindsey watched the Captain walk away. She knew that the right man was out there and worth the wait. She just didn’t know he’d be such a good listener. Or have so much honor.

  It was okay to have a little crush on the Captain so long as she didn’t act on it.

  “Maverick?” she called after him.

  “Not even close,” he answered without looking back.

  By day five of their mandatory counseling sessions, Doug found himself looking forward to the lunch hour. She didn’t pry and he didn’t offer up more than Top Gun trivia and the occasional insight into his personal history. Usually only to get another piece to the puzzle shaping up to be Chaplain Lindsey Alexander.

  Lindsey dropped back to finger comb her hair and redo her ponytail while he ordered two hotdogs. If he kept eating this junk he was going to have a heart attack rounding the point. He wasn’t in his twenties any more.

  If he was he’d be acting on other urges.

  The woman was more Marine than Navy Chaplain.

  He’d push himself and she’d push right along with him.

  He knew plenty of female pilots with that kind of tenacity, so why should it surprise him in a female chaplain?

  A chaplain without conviction.

  That is what she’d said. She’d joined the Navy because she lacked experience and conviction. He wasn’t a man of faith, but he’d been raised Catholic and was pretty sure faith was a job requirement for her chosen profession.

  But she seemed to have found her purpose in the exact place he’d found his.

  They were quite an interesting paradox.

  “I bought the CD,” she said. “I’ve seen parts of the movie, of course, but never the whole thing until last night.”

  He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. “Just not the same as seeing it in the theater. But I’ll give you brownie points since you were born on the release date, May 12, 1986.”

  She crossed her arms. ”How—?”

  “Facebook.” He nudged her into taking a mustard dog. “Steve Marietta is a wing commander and friend of mine. Marie and Steve had me over for dinner last night and couldn’t wait to show me the profile of the girl with the Top Gun birthday. You’re what, twenty-seven? God, has it been almost thirty years?” His gazed drifted out toward the ship.

  “You can’t be fifty?”

  Flattered that she actually sounded surprised, he shifted his gaze back to her. “Forty-eight. Signed on the dotted line the summer before my senior year at Oregon State and then entered right after I graduated.”

  She frowned at her hot dog. “I turned down Marie’s dinner invitation for last night…”

  “They didn’t tell me it was a set up either. Don’t worry. I forbid Steve to try again.” He propped against the picnic table and peeled the wrapper of his dog. “I sent you a friend request,” he said matter-of-factly before taking a bite.

  She pulled her phone from her skirt pocket. “I just accepted.”

  “You’re not a cyber stalker are you?”

  She raised a brow. “You friended me. How do I know you’re not a cyber stalker?”

  “I’m a divorced father of two and only on Facebook to keep in touch with my kids. My son is eighteen and about to enter the Naval Academy. And my daughter is not quite thirteen going on thirty, but she’s getting there.” He hoped Lindsey understood he didn’t extend invitations to just anyone. “I like to keep my personal and professional lives separate, Chaplain.”

  He’d crossed that line once and it didn’t end well, but at least he hadn’t involved his kids. What the hell did he think he was doing inviting Lindsey into his life?

  It’s not like he’d been disappointed when Steve said the Chaplain had turned down a dinner invitation. It would have been a much more awkward situation had she accepted.

  She’d been tasked with evaluating his mental and maybe even his moral fitness to serve as Commanding Officer of the Enterprise. She’d asked little enough of him, an hour a day for ten days, but maybe it was time he proved himself worthy of that kind of faith.

  By letting her know the man, not just the uniform.

  “I was going to guess Iceman today,” she said, taking another stab at his call sign. “But now I’m thinking Father Goose.”

  Doug cringed. “Just Goose in the movie.”

  “I was referring to an old Cary Grant film.”

  “Think outside the box office.”

  She lifted a bare shoulder. “You could tell me.”

  “How about a hint,” he suggested. “Heaven, Hell. Dark Angels. Ringing any bells, Chaplain?”

  “Captain Doug “The Reaper” Reese.” She held up her phone so he could see the picture of him standing next to his F-18 Hornet with his Call Sign stenciled beneath the canopy of his jet. “I like your Facebook header. The headshot in your dress blues is a bit stuffy for a profile pic. I think you need a selfie, Captain.” She sidled up next to him and snapped a shot from arms length. “Now, just you.”

  She stepped back and snapped a couple pictures.

  Doug shook his head. There was no stopping her so he didn’t even try.

  “Nice smile,” she said. “I’ll send them to you and you can decide which one you like best.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  On the last day of their ten-day obligation, Lindsey had a misstep with a pebble and rolled her ankle ten minutes into their run. “I’m fine,” she insisted despite the twinge.

  “You look fine,” he said, “but that’s beside the point. You’re limping.”

  The Captain had stopped in his tracks so she was forced to turn back or leave him behind. “Barely.” She made an effort not to limp as she walked toward him.

  “Let’s go put some ice on it anyway.”

  “Fine.”

  “I could carry you.” He bent and pointed over his shoulder. "Piggyback."

  “You try and I’ll unfriend you.”

  “Those Marines really toughened you up.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Despite her tough talk she didn’t object when he took her hand and put it to his shoulder so he could slip an arm around her waist.

  He didn’t lift her off the ground, but he did support her weight and ease them into a comfortable rhythm. As Lindsey leaned into the solid heat at her side, the twinge she felt was closer to her heart than her ankle.

  The walk back to the shipyard was slow going, but she didn’t mind.

  Once back at the pier he settled her on the nearest picnic bench and then went to ask their favorite hotdog vender for some ice. Returning with the ice and their usual order, he straddled the bench facing her.

&
nbsp; The Captain slapped his inner thigh and she raised a pink sneaker to rest against it. The heat in her cheeks felt brighter than her sneakers after that close up glimpse of the fine hairs on his well-muscled thigh. His tan line faded beneath his shorts.

  She glanced away before he caught her ogling the bulge just inches from her foot. It wasn’t like examining her ankle had aroused him. But his hand at the back of her lower calf was having quite the affect on her.

  “No swelling.” He turned her foot gently. “Don’t think you’ve broken anything. Or even sprained it. But it wouldn’t hurt to have the ship’s doctor take a look—”

  He placed the bread bag full of ice on her ankle and she jumped at the cold, wet impact. “It’s just a twist.” She used adjusting the ice as an excuse to draw her knee to her chin and away from him.

  Not because she didn’t want him to touch her, but because she did.

  She’d been having far too many late night dreams starring the Captain’s hot, sweat soaked body—and it wasn’t because he was running through them. Lindsey twisted the cap off the cold sparkling water and took a deep, deep swallow.

  She spotted Commander Elliot at the hotdog cart and tossed the senior Chaplain an awkward wave. It’s not that she was doing anything wrong, but he seemed to be glaring at her. Probably just the sun in his eyes.

  Captain Reese glanced over and the two men exchanged curt nods.

  “You know Chaplain Elliot?”

  The Captain’s smile faded. “He was stationed aboard the Big E when I was a Lieutenant with a fighter squadron attached to the ship.” He glanced away from the senior Chaplain and back to her. “Karen and I saw him for martial counseling.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Lindsey used martial counseling to segue into premarital counseling, telling him how nervous and excited she was to be performing her first wedding. He said all the right things in all the right places, but she sensed he wasn’t really listening. She only kept talking because she was very aware that his mood had changed at the sight of Chaplain Elliot. And she kept hoping that maybe he would open up about his marriage.

  She knew little enough from Facebook. Except that he and his ex were on friendly terms and did a good job of not dragging their kids into whatever issues they had between them.

  This was their last lunch date. After today, she’d probably never see the Captain again. Unless, of course, they happened to bump into one another on base. A naval shipyard was a big place and she didn’t exactly work on his pier.

  What excuse would she give? That she craved a mustard dog?

  Ignoring half dozen other venders along the way?

  He glanced at his watch. Despite the early end to their jog it was now several minutes past their usual lunch hour. Lindsey reached into the pocket of her sport skirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is a copy of the evaluation I’ll be forwarding to Admiral Dunning.”

  He accepted the folded paper without reading it. “To be honest I didn’t expect to enjoy our time together as much as I did.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for Top Gun trivia therapy.” They both stood. No hug or handshake. Their professional walls were firmly in place. “I really should go—”

  “Yeah.” He gathered their trash and walked her as far as the bin.

  She’d taken no more than a dozen steps away from the pier when she heard her name.

  “Lindsey,” he called out and she turned. “Same time tomorrow? If your ankle’s up to it?”

  There was a spring in her step as she entered the chapel annex in her sport skirt and sneakers. Lindsey couldn’t stop smiling if she wanted to.

  “There you are,” Commander Elliot said as Brenda shot Lindsey a warning look behind the priest’s back. “I saw you with Doug Reese down by the pier. I know it is none of my business, Lindsey, but take my advice. Don’t get involved with that man.”

  “We’re just running buddies.” Although, it wasn’t the thought of exercise that made her heart skip a beat when he’d asked her to join him again tomorrow.

  “You should be running in the opposite direction. The man’s marriage failed for good reason.” Father Elliot left her with that to ponder for the rest of the day. There were plenty of people with failed marriages. That didn’t make the Captain a bad person.

  Obviously, Father Elliot was privy to certain details that Lindsey knew nothing about, but she knew better than to speculate. As the day wore on, her smile thinned and then disappeared all together when she received her new orders.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t get it back.

  Doug sat at the desk in his stateroom under the soft glow of a computer monitor. Lindsey had canceled what would have been their eleventh run. She’d used her ankle as an excuse. He’d needed to get in some cross training at the gym anyway.

  So he didn’t push.

  Then the heavens had opened up and given her a week of excuses. Now here it was almost a week later.

  “More coffee, sir?” his steward asked.

  Doug checked his watch, half past ten. “That’ll be all for tonight.” He really should lay off the caffeine at night. At least while in port.

  “Yes, sir.” The steward disappeared through the Captain’s Mess and Galley.

  Doug rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d wanted to surprise Lindsey today with an indoor picnic prepared by his chef. But when he’d called to suggest he stop by her office around lunch, her response made him feel like more than a few miles and a little bad weather was keeping them apart.

  Her turning down his invitation for a game of racket ball next week confirmed his gut feeling.

  He was afraid to examine his motives for the cancelled picnic too closely.

  An older man out to impress a younger women with the fact that he had his own chef. Along with a diver, a limo, a fighter jet, a boat and a ship—take that all you billionaire businessmen. I’m CEO of an aircraft carrier and my job is to save the world. I have everything I need and better perks.

  Except he didn’t have command of the Enterprise yet.

  Or everything he wanted.

  And he wasn’t likely to find it on match.com with a profile that said he was interested in woman between the ages of 35-50.

  What a cliché he’d turned out to be. But the truth was he’d been picturing Lindsey naked from almost the moment they’d met. Right now he’d settle for a cold shower and hearing her laughter again.

  A ship in dry dock could be a lonely place at night with a skeleton crew on watch. The civilian contractors were gone for the day. Married officers and enlisted alike were home with their families. Hell, even the singletons had places they’d rather be and only spent the night onboard if they had nowhere else to go.

  Admiral Dunning knocked on the open hatch. “Doug, am I interrupting?”

  “Jim. No, come on in.” Doug pushed to his feet until the Admiral was seated in the leather chair across from him. “What brings you here this late at night?”

  Although the Admiral had his own stateroom onboard, he had other business to attend to while in port and a home to return to at night. “Just wanted to stop by and congratulate you in person. We made our case to the board and it’s official. The Enterprise is yours.”

  Doug’s chest swelled. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.”

  The Admiral waved away his gratitude. “You did all the heavy lifting. My recommendation was a given.”

  Doug had appeared before the selection board no less than four times in the past month. Being poked and prodded. And quizzed about every aspect of shipboard operations.

  “I don’t think it hurt that you had an angel in your pocket. Did you read this?” The Admiral pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

  The first smile in a week crossed Doug’s face. “Yeah.”

  “Who knew that bit about the director writing a personal check to turn the ship into the sunset? I had to go look it up in the archives. Hope you don’t mind that I shared her insights with the
board. They needed to see that human side of you. The Chaplain’s recommendation added the right personal touch.”

  “You’re saying I owe her my command.”

  “The command is all on you and your hard work, Doug. I’m saying you might owe the Lieutenant a nice steak dinner and it never hurts for a commander to have a good working relationship with his chaplains. Especially one who’s up for a citation that has the Pentagon buzzing.”

  Doug followed the Admiral to his feet. “Which award?”

  He didn’t want to sound like he’d just crawled out of a cave, but he didn’t get to DC as often as the Admiral and hadn’t heard any buzz while he was there.

  “The Triple Cross.” The Navy’s second highest honor for bravery. “You hear about chaplains picking up weapons in battle. But how many of them are women? And how many have you ever known?”

  Apparently, none.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The most beautiful girl in the room stood alone at the edge of the dance floor with her second glass of champagne in hand. As far as Doug was concerned all the single men in the room—and there were plenty of them, half a fighter wing and half the ship’s officers—were idiots for not asking her to dance.

  She wore a dress white uniform, which earlier today had been covered by a calf length white robe that made her look like an angel as she united the bride and groom in holy matrimony. While the general male population in the room was looking at those crosses on her shoulder boards, they weren’t seeing the woman beneath.

  Did anyone here know this was her first wedding?

  Or how much it meant to her?

  He knew.

  At one time he thought he’d have the privilege of knowing every inch of her, but he’d let her slip through his grasp and that made him the biggest idiot of all.

  Doug threw back his second scotch of the evening and went to rescue her from the maiden aunt who’d taken up residence at her elbow. Lindsey had been avoiding him for a month now and it was time he stopped being a coward or a martyr, or whatever the hell he was trying to be, and confronted her about it.