by Peggy Webb
Pressing her hands against her throbbing temples, Rose Anne turned to go back inside her tent. Something—a sound, a feeling, a compulsion— caused her to look in the direction of Sid's camp.
She sucked in her breath.
The tent was gone, the camp stool had disappeared; even the signs of the campfire had been wiped out. There was no evidence that Sid had ever been there.
He's moved camp, she thought, but she didn't really believe it.
Ducking inside her tent, she grabbed her shoes and a flashlight and set off toward the river. She must have run the distance, for when she rounded the bend, she was out of breath.
The grasslands seemed to sway in the early morning breeze. As far as Rose Anne could see, the pale grasses moved, tinted pink by the approaching dawn. No silver plane marred the horizon. No tall pilot emerged with the rising sun.
"He's gone," she said.
The river caught her voice and carried it downstream, murmuring in sympathy.
Rose Anne turned back toward camp. She had Bitsy and Charlie. She had her job.
She would throw herself into her work. She would accept every assignment that came her way, no matter how it crowded her schedule. She would live, breathe, and eat modeling until there was no time left to think ... no time and no energy to remember a man called Eagle.
o0o
Sid rejoined his buddies in Paris. He checked into an ordinary hotel as far away from the House of the Angel as he could get. The room had a bed, a closet, a bathroom, and no piano. Even the bar in the hotel didn't have a piano.
He didn't care if he never heard another note of piano music.
Hawk, Gunslinger, and Lightning observed Sid's dark and brooding look and decided to steer clear of any topic relating to Africa. But Panther always stepped in where angels feared to tread.
"Hey, Eagle. How did it go in Africa?"
"I'll tell you when I can pull myself together. My nose left before I did, and I haven't caught up to it yet."
Panther was undaunted. "Did you see the lovely Rose Anne?"
"I saw her, but she saw me first and ran the other way."
"Ask for salacious details and all I get is the runaround." Panther threw up his hands in disgust.
"Catch, Panther." Gunslinger tossed him a beer. "It's good for what alls you?"
"What's that?"
"A thick head. When Eagle starts in on the nose jokes, he's either in a good mood or telling you to mind your own business."
The others agreed with Gunslinger, and steered the conversation to less dangerous waters—where to find the best French pastries and the prettiest French girls.
Every now and then Eagle tuned in so he could throw his buddies off the scent with a pun, but mostly he thought about his dilemma.
He had lost Rose Anne. No matter how he looked at the problem, the bottom line was the same. He had wooed her and won her for Luther, and in the process she was lost forever to him. Pursuing her would only add to her pain . . . and to his.
Life goes on, he thought. But it would never be the same.
o0o
Rose Anne had Charlie set such a hectic schedule for her that she barely had time to eat, let alone think. Each night she fell into her bed, too exhausted to know where she was, or even to care.
It was a hard life, but it was the way she survived.
Three weeks after she left Africa, Rose Anne sat on the balcony of her apartment in Atlanta, drink- tag iced tea with Bitsy and Charlie.
"You don't have to accept this invitation if you don't want to, honey," Bitsy said.
"That's right. Rose Anne. This is not an assignment, just a flattering invitation from Senator Wyland." Charlie took a sip of tea, then reached for a chocolate chip cookie.
He took a bite, then rolled his eyes. "These are delicious, Little Bits. You cook as good as you kiss."
"Charlie!"
Rose Anne laughed. "Don't mind me, you two. Just tell me when the plane leaves for Norfolk."
Bitsy leaned forward in her chair. "Honey, I really don't think you should go. You've been on the road constantly since we left Africa. You're exhausted."
"No, I'm not. I'm just hitting my stride." Rose Anne looked out over the skyline of Atlanta. It was the first time she ever remembered not getting a lift from being home.
"I wish you'd change your mind," Bitsy said. "It's just some old party for political bigwigs. These senators always want to parade celebrities around during election year."
"Now, Bits." Charlie patted her hand. "It's far more than that. This is a very prestigious affair, a change of command at Norfolk, followed by a reception. At least six senators are coming from Washington, and there's even talk that the vice president will be there."
"And so will I. My mind is made up." Rose Anne stood up.
Bitsy sighed. "When do we leave, Charlie?"
"I'm going alone. Auntie." Bitsy started to protest, but Rose Anne leaned down and hugged her. "You're wearing yourself to a frazzle, following me around. Auntie. Besides, you and Charlie have tickets to the opera. You're staying right here in Atlanta, and I want to be the first one to hear the good news when I get back."
Charlie cleared his throat and wiped his face with a black dotted silk handkerchief.
"What news?" Bitsy asked, blushing.
Rose Anne smiled. "I believe it all started in Africa when I went to your tent before sunrise the day Sid left and you weren't there, Auntie."
"Well . . . my arthritis was acting up, and I couldn't sleep."
Bitsy glanced at Charlie for support in her lie, and they both burst into laughter. Charlie laughed so hard, he had to wipe away tears.
"It wasn't your arthritis acting up, as I recall, Bits." He patted his lap. "Come here, sweetheart. The cat's out of the bag."
"I'm going shopping, you two," Rose Anne told them, smiling. "Just make yourselves right at home. I’ll be gone a long time."
o0o
A week later, sitting in the plane winging northward, Rose Anne chuckled about what had happened that day. By the time she got back from her shopping trip, Charlie and Bitsy had set a wedding date. She didn't know how long they might have gone on pretending there was nothing between them if she hadn't given romance a little shove.
Rose Anne rummaged in her carry-on bag, looking for the invitation. She was happy for her aunt. Bitsy deserved to find love, even if it had eluded Rose Anne.
As her hand closed around the Invitation, she remembered what Sid had said in Paris. Love. Another silly notion.
"You were right, Sid," she whispered. "For some it's not only a silly notion, it's a hurting notion."
She pulled the invitation from the envelope to see whose reception she would be attending. She hadn't asked Charlie. Hadn't really cared. These days she functioned quite well as long as she was on the move.
The invitation was embossed on heavy bond paper. And on the front was the insignia of the U.S. Navy.
Rose Anne's heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. She pressed her hand to her throat and took a deep breath.
Norfolk. Why hadn't she remembered that it was a naval air station?
She smoothed her hands over the insignia. How many people were in the navy? Hundreds of thousands? Surely, if there was any kindness in the world, any justice, she wouldn't run into the one man she was trying to avoid.
She opened the invitation and saw the name— Commander Sidfleld Cyrus Granger. Not lieutenant commander, but commander. Obviously he had received a promotion and the change of command was for him. The reception was for him.
Just looking at his name made her feel faint. She stuffed the invitation into the envelope and stared out the window. There was nothing to see except gray and white cloud banks, stacked on top of each other. Not one single strip of blue sky showed through.
The captain's voice came over the intercom. "We're beginning our descent into Norfolk. We should be at the gate by five o'clock."
Only three hours until the ceremonies started. May
be she could get a flight back. She'd call the senator from the airport and say she had suddenly taken ill. She was ill. Butterflies batted around her stomach. Her heart didn't feel right. Her throat ached. Her head swam.
She pressed her hands to her temples.
"Are you all right, miss," the man seated next to her asked.
"Yes," she said, trying to smile.
Damn you, Sid Granger.
She looked out the window. The plane was out of the clouds and Norfolk was In view. Somewhere down there, Sid waited for her.
Travelers jumped out of their seats and crowded the aisles the minute the seat belt light blinked off. Rose Anne sat still, staring out the window. She wondered where she would end up if she just stayed on the plane and went wherever it took her.
"After you, miss," her unknown travel companion said.
There was something comforting about strangers. No performance pressure. No need to make small talk.
She got her bag and took her place in the crowded aisle. Sid wouldn't be waiting, of course. Chances were, he didn't even know she was coming.
Still . . . there was no need to play with fire. She'd make her call to the senator from the first pay phone she saw.
o0o
"Rose Anne!" a voice called. "There she is. Rose Anne!"
Senator and Mrs. Wayne Wyland were waiting for her in the airport.
Rose Anne lifted her chin, pasted her famous smile in place, and went to meet them.
Mrs. Wyland took her hands. "I can't believe I'm finally getting to meet you."
"I told you the state of Georgia would be represented in style at this bash. What other state can boast having the most beautiful woman in the world?" The senator's booming voice caused heads to turn in their direction. "Welcome, my dear. Thank you for coming."
Rose Anne made all the appropriate remarks. Her heart was finally back in rhythm and her head had stopped swimming.
Facing Sid Granger suddenly became a matter of state pride as well as personal pride. She would go, and if she could get through it, she could get through anything.
o0o
The Officers' Club was filled with men in dress whites and women in colorful party attire. From the looks of the crowd, every officer at Norfolk had a woman on his arm—every officer except Sid.
He sipped his champagne and made polite conversation. Everybody wanted to congratulate him. Fellow officers shook his hand and politicians pounded his back.
It was a proud moment for Sid, but he had never been much of a party animal. All in all, he'd rather have been in the sky, racing toward the sun.
Senator Lewis Montfort from Kentucky pumped Sid's hand. "We're proud of you, Commander. Mighty proud. We're counting on you to show the navy what an old Kentucky boy can do with a squadron."
"Yes sir. I intend to."
Someone plucked Sid's sleeve from behind. He turned, and that's when he saw her. The Face. She was standing on the far side of the room, surrounded by a sea of officers.
The impact of seeing her so unexpectedly jolted him into rigid silence. His hand froze on the champagne glass and his mind shut down. Nothing mattered, no one existed, except the beautiful woman across the room.
She was dressed in a simple black gown that bared her lovely throat and shoulders. Her heavy silken hair was pulled back in a snood, and she wore no jewelry.
Unable to move, Sid stared at her. Vaguely he heard the buzz of conversation around him, but he was beyond listening, beyond talking. The face that had haunted his dreams for weeks beckoned him.
"Excuse me," he said as he made his way toward Rose Anne.
The officers surrounding her surged back together, and she disappeared from view. Sid cursed under his breath.
People called out to him as he passed by, and a few tried to detain him, but he moved irrevocably forward. He had one goal, one mission.
The officers parted when they saw him coming, leaving a pathway that led straight to Rose Anne. Her eyes widened and her hands tightened on her champagne stem.
Sid said nothing, but continued his march forward. She lifted her chin and smiled.
One by one the officers fell quiet. A ripple of silence followed Sid's progress. As he came closer, he saw the light that leapt to the center of her eyes, the faint flush that colored her cheeks.
Still, he said nothing. Her smile remained fixed. It didn't touch her eyes.
When they were facing each other, standing so close, her skirt brushed his trouser leg, he spoke.
"Hello, Rose Anne."
"Commander." She inclined her head toward him.
Tension zinged in the air. Passion hung like a thick fog between them. Little by little, the sea of officers drifted away.
"I didn't expect to see you." Sid captured her gaze and held on.
"Nor did I expect to see you."
Her lips trembled ever so slightly. Sid ached from wanting to touch them, to kiss them.
"Would you have come if you had known?" he asked.
"No."
"Then time has changed nothing?"
Rose Anne bought time by sipping her champagne. It might as well have been water. She saw nothing, knew nothing except Sid, standing in front of her so powerful, so passionate, so extraordinarily male that she had a hard time keeping her legs from buckling. She had known seeing him would be hard, but she hadn't expected anything like this.
She took a step back, hoping it would help. It didn't.
"Time has changed everything," she said. "You're a commander now, and I'm the busiest model in the world."
"As well as the most beautiful."
He reached for her then, reached out and gently touched her cheek. She didn't blink, didn't breathe, didn't do anything to let him know what he was doing to her.
"If you think you can seduce me again, you're terribly mistaken."
His eyes were very dark, as he caressed her cheek. She hoped he didn't see how she lied.
"I don't plan to seduce you. Rose Anne. But I can never resist touching you . . . even in a crowded room."
His hand moved to her lips. With one finger he traced their curve.
Desire shot through her so hot and bright, she wondered if her skin glowed. His finger moving across her lips was seductive, mesmerizing. Need spiraled through her, and she was almost out of control. She fought to get it back, fought to ignore the heat of his skin against hers, but it was no use. A small sound escaped her.
Sid took her arm and propelled her outside. The balmy Virginia night air did nothing to cool her. She was burning as she always had with Sid, always would with him, burning so hot, she thought she would burst into flames.
He moved swiftly through the darkness, hurrying her along a pathway shaded with trees and sweet with the smell of late summer roses. The sounds of a southern night were all around them—cicadas humming, crickets chirping, tree frogs singing.
They could have been in darkest Africa for all Rose Anne knew. With Sid beside her, touching her, she was totally transported. Reality disappeared. Reason vanished.
When they reached a secluded grove, Sid leaned against the trunk of a massive oak and pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, no more able to stop herself than she could stop the sun from rising.
"I told myself I was courting you for Luther," he said. "Even when I followed you to Africa, I told myself that all I wanted was your forgiveness." He kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheek. "I was wrong. Rose Anne. Seeing you now, I know that. all I ever wanted was you, from the first time I saw you."
"You left Africa without a word."
"I thought it was the honorable thing to do. I didn't want to hurt you anymore." He brushed his lips softly against hers. "I don't ever want to hurt you again."
"I wanted you to leave then." She laced her arms around his neck and drew him down to her.
"And now?"
"I don't know." She pressed her forehead against the side of his neck. His crisp uniform prickled her skin and his masculi
ne scent invaded her. "You take away my ability to think. With you, I can do nothing except feel."
"And what do you feel, Rose Anne?" he whispered.
"This," she said, reaching for his lips.
The kiss was a soft joining of flesh that escalated with such speed, it left their heads spinning and their legs weak. With swift, sure movements, he pulled her hips into his. Her chiffon skirts and his navy dress whites couldn't disguise the heat, the arousal. Swollen with need, aching for fulfillment, Rose Anne instinctively arched against him, moving to the beat of an ancient inner love song.
Groaning, Sid drew her closer. The buttons of his uniform bit into her tender flesh through her thin gown, but she was beyond knowing, beyond caring.
All the time she was in Paris she had believed it was his music that seduced her, his poetry. Even in Africa it had been the music that had drawn her to his tent.
But now . . . She moaned, swaying in his arms. Now she knew. It was the man she longed for, Commander Sid Granger.
"I can't bear it anymore," she whispered against his lips. "I can't stand this wanting."
He released her immediately. Shaken, she pressed her hands against her chest. Her heart was racing as if she had run five miles. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fragrance of roses and the sweet smells of the summer earth.
"I'm an officer and a gentleman, Rose Anne. I won't touch you again unless you want me to."
Her eyes snapped open. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? That Sid not touch her again? That he not seduce her and make her forget how he had betrayed her, how all the men she had trusted had betrayed her.
"Good," she said, straightening her hair. "I'll hold you to that promise."
Sid studied her so long and so hard that she felt certain he was seeing straight through to her lying soul. She managed to hold still by pretending she was in front of a camera. The right pose for this occasion, she decided, was a look of studied indifference. No more confessions for her. No more admissions that he could seduce her with a look, a touch.
Not that she had backed away, not by a long shot. She had practically swooned in his arms. And it had been she who had initiated the kiss. Not Sid.
