by Julie Miller
“And if I can’t?” Navy Seaman Earl Gardner had made a strong impression on his abandoned daughter and left a devastating lack of trust in his wake. “What if I do my research and prove that men in uniform are selfish in bed, and cads in the relationship department?”
Lee smiled with as much satisfaction as a cat who had just discovered where the cream was stored. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks you’re wrong. I say there are more men like Bobby Tortelli, with thirty years of a happy marriage beneath their belts than there are randy young bucks who are just using the uniform to get laid.”
Her editor had finally pushed the right button. A challenge. J.C.’s weary sigh ended with a cautious smile. “Fifty bucks that a soldier makes a good lover?”
“Fifty bucks.”
“You’re giving me carte blanche to write whatever I want to say?”
Lee grinned. “As long as it’s interesting.”
J.C. straightened. She had to write these articles, anyway. She could make them very interesting. And finally expose the truth about men like her father. “You’re on.”
She extended her hand and the two women shook on it. Then J.C. gathered up her red canvas attaché and slung the long strap over her shoulder.
“Oh, and J.C.?”
“Yes?”
“We don’t call you Dr. Josephine. Keep some of the sin in Dr. Cyn. It’s what readers want.”
J.C. nodded. She was charged and ready to do this right. “I’ll give readers something to talk about. Don’t worry.”
Lee’s eyes narrowed above the rhinestones. “I want fair reporting. Study a wide sample. Give me in-depth observations. I can run several articles on the topic.”
“Of course. My research ethics have never been questioned.” Now she was the one smiling. She fully intended to back up every word of truth she wrote. “I promise to be honest with my findings. But fifty bucks says I’ll prove you wrong.”
2
“I NEED A WOMAN.”
Major Ethan McCormick paced across his Pentagon office, needlessly adjusting the gold oak leaf on the impeccably pressed epaulet of his khaki shirt. He attacked the imaginary speck of lint on his sky-blue slacks next. Nervousness was a whole new experience for him.
He’d graduated at the top of his class from Annapolis. He’d traveled the globe and protected presidents and prime ministers and ambassadors. He’d trained the finest troops in the world. He’d even foiled an attempted embassy takeover by a local terrorist faction.
But his newest assignment left him flustered.
He crossed to his desk and picked up the memo from General Craddock again. Damn. He hadn’t misread the message. He tossed the paper onto the desk and sank down into his chair, tapping his fist against his chin and striking a thoughtful pose. “The general wants to use tomorrow’s Cherry Blossom Embassy Ball as an opportunity to meet my wife or significant other.”
“Um, I know I’m not the smart one of the family, but, I see a slight problem here.” A younger, badder version of Ethan leaned back in the chair across from him, grinning his wiseass face off. His brother, Travis. “Does Craddock know you’re not married? Not engaged? Not seeing anyone—significant or otherwise?”
“Ergo, my problem.” Ethan dropped his fist and counted off the competition on his fingers. “Doug Sampson is married with two kids. Ty Richards is a newlywed. Regina Moffat has been engaged to that doctor of hers for almost three years now. I have to at least show up with a date if I want to stay in contention for the lieutenant colonel promotion.”
“You really want a Quantico training school assignment?” Travis, a captain with a covert special forces unit, still possessed the wanderlust that had once driven Ethan to apply for transfers to embassies on nearly every continent. Travis loved the action of serving in the military, while Ethan thrived on the discipline.
“I want to run that program,” Ethan clarified. And since Quantico, Virginia was the Corps’ main training base, it was no small-potatoes assignment. “I’m thirty-five years old. I’ve seen enough of the world. Now that Dad’s retired and Caitie’s married and living in Virginia, I want to stay close to home and see something of my family for a change. And the idea of heading up a task force to train embassy protection units really appeals to me. Plus, it would put me in line to eventually lead a regiment of my own.”
He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, letting his gaze slide across to that damned memo. “But they won’t put me in charge of anything on any base unless I can provide a suitable hostess. All this time I thought I’d joined the Marines to protect my country and my people. Now I find out I should have joined the country club, instead.”
Travis smoothed his palm over the top of his closely cropped dark blond, almost brown, hair. Ethan’s hair was equally short and a shade lighter. He outranked his younger brother, stood an inch taller and outweighed him by twenty pounds. But Travis had the looks and the charm. And the women.
Ethan had, well, he had his career. A damn fine, exemplary one, at that.
“So what, exactly, are you asking me?” Travis was enjoying this way too much for Ethan’s peace of mind. “You need me to hook you up?”
Hook him up? He wanted to hire him a hooker? Surely not. Hell. Ethan had been out of circulation for so long, he didn’t even know relationship terminology anymore. He had a real situation here. And it required a well thought-out plan of action in order to be resolved. “I’ve been stateside for what, all of five months? That’s hardly enough time to meet somebody, much less marry her.”
“Uh, hello? Speak for yourself, big brother. Five months? If all you need is a date, I can line one up for you in five minutes.” Damn, but little brothers could be annoying sometimes. Why had Ethan thought asking Travis for help with his nonexistent love life would be a good idea?
“Thanks for rubbing it in.” Ethan stood and resumed his pacing. Travis was the poster boy for the Marine Corps’ lean, mean fighting machine image. He was equally adept at being a love machine, if his reputation was even halfway accurate. But Ethan had developed other skills at the expense of learning how to finesse a woman. Self-discipline. Multilingual communication. Razor-sharp strategy. Diplomacy.
Travis could build a bomb out of gum wrappers and coffee grounds. He could infiltrate an enemy post and knock out their communication system before the guards even blinked. He could sweet-talk a woman and have her in his bed faster than most men could even get her phone number.
Ethan could talk to a world leader and command his respect. He could placate local authorities who thought U.S. troops were taking over their jurisdiction and defiling their culture. He’d safeguarded princesses and sheikhs and the men under his command. He could direct massive security missions behind the scenes without a party guest ever seeing anyone but the uniformed M.P. at the door.
But sweet-talk a woman?
Bed her?
Propose marriage—even a fake one—to her?
The last time Ethan had sex with a woman had been New Year’s Eve—one year, four months, two weeks and a handful of days ago—in Cairo, Egypt. Of course, Bethany Mead had turned out to be Mrs. Mead, the junior ambassador’s young trophy wife, not his daughter as she’d claimed. Ethan thought he’d been navigating a tricky point in his career, getting involved with a woman he’d been assigned to protect. But he’d been willing to take the risk for love.
The sex between them had been great. Frequent. Naughty. Fun. But that’s all Bethany had wanted.
Mrs. Mead had traveled to Egypt two months ahead of Mr. Mead to have an affair with someone—anyone—lots of anyones—to retaliate against her philandering husband. She’d targeted Ethan before they’d even finished the limo ride from the airport to the embassy. He’d fallen for the lonely, vulnerable daughter act. Fallen hard. But when he uncovered her masquerade, the bitter, vindictive wife gave him a new understanding and appreciation for the Corps’ focus on rules and discipline.
He’d salvaged his career without a black mark on his reco
rd. But he hadn’t salvaged his heart. Or his trust.
Self-discipline was like breathing for Ethan. The whole experience had prompted him to make a vow to avoid all serious relationships—to avoid the temptations of sex—until he could find the right woman to commit to and guarantee that she was his alone.
It had been almost a year and a half and counting…he hadn’t found her yet.
No wife. No fiancée. No bedmate. Not even an old gal pal he could call in a favor from.
“I need more than a date,” Ethan reasoned, seeing the words of that memo playing over and over in his head as a sorry reminder of his personal life. Or lack thereof. “I can’t show up at one function with a blonde, and the next one with a brunette. General Craddock and the review board are looking for stability. I need a cultured, classy lady who’s willing to donate a few weeks of her time to me.”
“Donate?” Travis’s expression was doubtful as he rose and scooted aside a file on the top of Ethan’s desk to lean his hip there. “Didn’t you inherit any of the McCormick charm?”
Ethan splayed his hands at his waist and puffed out a frustrated sigh. “I think it all bypassed me and got dumped on you.” He couldn’t resist a dig. “Lord knows, you’re full of it.”
The double entendre earned a fake laugh. “You’re too clever for your own good, big brother. But I’m sure you have some raw materials in there somewhere we can work with. Good bone structure. Respectable bank account. Power.”
Ethan groaned at the compliments that sounded more like teasing than flattery. “I see you neglected wit, intelligence, sex appeal. You don’t think I can pull this off, do you?”
Travis shrugged. “You called me for help. That makes me think you’re the one with the doubts.” He pointed his cap at the newspaper lying on Ethan’s desk. “Maybe you should have written that relationship columnist, Dr. Cyn. She can tell you what a woman wants and needs in order to go to bed with a man.” He spread his arms wide and made a pity face. “Or commit to a two-week engagement.”
“I’m not about to lower myself to asking advice from some tabloid columnist.” Ethan snapped his opinion with the succinct force of a commander dressing down a noncom.
But Travis had known him for thirty-two years. He didn’t bat an eye at the righteous bluster in his voice. “She’s more than a tabloid sensation. I’ve read some of her stuff. The woman, whoever she really is, is a licensed therapist with several college degrees. One of the guys in my unit joined an online chat with her—he says it saved his marriage. Hell, I even picked up a few pointers.”
“You need pointers?” Was it freezing over somewhere?
“Well, it was more of a validation that I was doing things the right way.” Travis grinned one of those what-was-good-for-the-cat-must-be-good-for-the-cat’s-big-brother grins. “Sounds like she’s got the answer to all your dating woes.”
“I doubt it.”
Travis picked up the newspaper and started thumbing through it. Good God, he was actually going to quote the woman. Travis located the column and folded the paper to highlight the suggestive heart and fig-leaf logo that marked the sinful play of words in the headline. “Have you ever actually read Dr. Cyn? She’s insightful. Honest. Funny. She knows what she’s talking about.”
Ethan questioned Travis’s defense of the anonymous woman who had the entire East Coast talking about her views on men and dating and sex. The woman probably wasn’t getting any of her own. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have time to write so much tripe and create such a stir.
Okay, so technically, he hadn’t actually read any of her columns beyond their teasers, like, Boy Toy or Manly Man? Which Do You Have? and Pleasure All Night Long—How To Give It, How To Get It. But he’d overheard enough gossip to know this Dr. Cyn pushed the boundaries with her sex and relationship advice. She was hardly the type of woman who could understand conservative values or the appeal of old-fashioned romance and honor.
Ethan snatched the paper, rolled it up and swatted the air in lieu of his brother. “I don’t need advice. Not from this Dr. Cyn and not from you. What I need is a woman willing to act a part for a couple of weeks. She needs to take direction, and she needs to deliver.”
“Boy, you didn’t get any charm, did you?” Travis grabbed the paper back and tossed it onto the desk. “This isn’t a military exercise, Ethan. You can’t just command a woman to be yours. You have to seduce her.”
“I don’t want to have sex with her.” Travis raised a skeptical eyebrow. Ethan clarified that it wasn’t sex he objected to, just the casualness of it. And how sex for lust’s sake could muddy up a man’s thinking, keep him from seeing the truth about the woman he was with. “It wouldn’t be right. I’ll save that kind of attention for a real relationship. I’m talking a strictly business proposition here.”
Either he’d just said something very profound, or something very amusing, judging by the way Travis kept shaking his head. “I’m not even going to ask you the last time you made love to a woman. I’m not talking about sexually seducing her, numbskull, though that’s always an option if you find someone you click with. I’m talking about luring her into your plan. Enticing her into being your steady for a couple of weeks.” Travis raised his hand and curled his fingers as if he was holding an imaginary apple, symbolically cupping the idea in the palm of his hand in a way Ethan understood in theory, though not in practice. “You have to make her believe she wants to spend time with you.”
“You think I need to arrange some kind of cash reimbursement?”
Travis crushed the imaginary apple in his fist. “God, bro—you need more work than I thought. When was the last time you even went out on a date?”
Ethan circled his desk and thumbed through the catalog of engagements on his desk calendar. “April 18. General and Mrs. Schuck hosted a dinner party. I took Colonel Hoffner’s wife because he was overseas on assignment.”
Travis turned to face him. “No, you escorted Mrs. Hoffner. You did your duty.” He shook his head again. “When was the last time you took a woman to someplace intimate or fun? A movie? Dinner? A walk on the beach? Where it was just about the two of you?”
“Well—” Ethan reached for his calendar again.
Travis reached across the desk and stilled his hand. “If you have to look it up, it wasn’t a date. You should be able to give me a name. Either you had a nice time and you want to remember the lady, or you had a lousy time and she made a lasting impression you wish you could forget.”
Ethan jerked his hand away and thumped the desktop with his index finger. “I’m a damn fine Marine. I’ve earned that promotion. It shouldn’t hinge on whether or not I can dig up a fiancée on short notice.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” At least he’d concede that point. “But the fact remains it does hinge on that. Now I can dress you down in casual clothes and take you someplace where the women are nice and willing. Where they have a particular fondness for picking up men in uniform.”
“Picking up?” Ethan had his doubts about this plan already. “That sounds trashy. I need a first-class lady who can pass muster with the brass.”
“If this ball is tomorrow night, and you called me instead of some sweet thing in your Rolodex, then I’m thinking you can’t be too choosy right now.” Travis had him there. He hated when his pesky little brother was right. “I can guarantee you someone attractive, and I can guarantee you someone willing to consider your proposition. They might not be the same girl, though. To be honest, I don’t know that I can guarantee you this paragon of dream-girl virtue you want on such short notice.”
Ethan had been prepared to make concessions. Calling Travis had been the first one. “Looks are optional. If she’s female and her age is compatible with mine, I’ll consider her. I just need someone reliable. Someone convincing.”
“All right.” Travis checked his watch and strode to the door. “I’ll be at your place at eighteen-thirty hours. We’ll scruff up your hair, take the shine off your shoes and find somethi
ng denim for you to wear.” He paused with his hand on the doorknob and glanced over his shoulder. “But I tell you what, big brother. I can get you in the door and introduce you. But, ultimately, it’s going to be up to you to get the girl to say yes.”
Ethan nodded. “Understood.”
Travis rolled his eyes as if that answer revealed just how hopeless this whole find-a-fiancée-for-the-major project was.
After Travis left, Ethan stared at the closed door for several moments, trying to ignore the symbolism. The man in him who hadn’t been with a woman for over a year wondered if this mission was hopeless.
But the Marine in him refused to say die.
3
DR. CYN IS IN…
Hey out there all you lovers and wannabe lovers—
Holding out for a hero?
Dr. Cyn is always on the lookout to help you find where you can meet that special someone—and, of course, tell you the places to avoid at all costs.
My editor posed an interesting question to me this morning. She challenged me to find a marketplace loaded with eligible men—one where you could blindfold yourself, spin around, point—and voilà—come up with a guaranteed catch. Let me give it to you straight, ladies. There is no such wonderland.
Aha, she said. What about the military? Thousands of gorgeous guys in uniforms—all sizes, shapes and colors.
I’ll let you in on a little secret—a stud in uniform is a guaranteed heartbreaker. So, sure, if all you’re looking for is a little fun for a night or two—find yourself a soldier or a sailor or an airman. But if you want a real relationship—commitment, support, showing up in your bed and no one else’s!—then look elsewhere. There’s a reason they coined the term “ship out.” Because they’ll leave you. They have wars to fight, nations to defend, conquests to make in other towns, in other countries, in other ports.
