by Debra Webb
TAMING GI JANE
Debra Webb
A note about the author: Though Debra Webb has earned a reputation for outstanding romantic suspense, she began her career with nearly a dozen sassy and spicy romances. For the first time these heartfelt romances are now available worldwide in e-book format. Previously published as a Kensington Precious Gems, available only in Wal-Mart for one short month, Debra is proud to present her beloved tales of romance.
HERE TO STAY
FREE FALLING
TEMPTING TRACE
UP CLOSE
BASIC INSTINCTS
KEEPING KENNEDY
TAMING GI JANE
GOING TO THE CHAPEL
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2011, WebbWorks, LLC
First Printing: March 2000 Kensington Precious Gems
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
TAMING GI JANE
Debra Webb
Chapter One
“At ease, sergeant.”
Sergeant Jane Passerella released the breath she had been holding as she shifted to a more relaxed stance. Looking a two-star general in the eye without feeling somewhat intimidated always proved to be a bit difficult. Especially since he was new and his reputation for unusual tactics had preceded him. Jane had heard Suddath war stories long before his actual arrival.
“Thank you, sir.” Jane issued a smile despite the tension coiling in her stomach. This was her first appearance in the post commander’s office, not to mention her first formal introduction to the new top brass of Fort McWayne. She wasn’t in trouble—that much she knew for certain. The Army had a strict chain of command and her first sergeant had not informed her of any deficiencies in her performance of duty. Whatever the case, Jane couldn’t prevent at least a little anxiety as she waited patiently for the general to begin.
Nope, she couldn’t be in trouble, but that was no guarantee that trouble wasn’t waiting for her with the general’s next words. Jane instinctively stiffened when General Suddath stood. The man’s height alone could intimidate even the toughest male counterpart. She’d heard the talk in the ranks. Fort McWayne would be this general’s final military assignment. After retirement from his long and distinguished career as a military officer, his sights were set on the political arena as a second career.
The general released a long breath as he peered out the window behind his desk. Jane didn’t have to look to know that two stories below troops marched and drill sergeants called cadence beneath the blistering Alabama sun. She almost smiled when she considered the patch adorning her left shirt pocket. She had worked hard to get this assignment, and she intended to be the best damned drill sergeant this post had ever seen. At only a little past five feet, and just over past one hundred pounds, she’d had to work hard, period, at gaining recognition in “this man’s” Army.
“With increasing budget cuts each year,” the general began, snapping Jane back to attention, mentally and physically. He turned to face her as he continued. “We find ourselves forever justifying our presence.”
General Suddath shook his graying head. “Despite that annoying injustice, it is my belief we should perform our assigned duties to the very best of our ability. Don’t you agree, sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Community relations are a top-priority in today’s Army. With that in mind, a desperate need has been brought to my attention.” The general stepped closer. “A need we can fill, sergeant.”
A new kind of anticipation wired Jane’s nerves. “I’m sure we can, sir.”
“I know we can, sergeant.” An astute smile slid across his aristocratic features. “Are you familiar with Camp Serenity, a summer camp for troubled teens, located just outside Waynesville? There isn’t another one like it in the entire state.”
Jane resisted the urge to frown. Had she read something about such a camp in the post information packet she’d received before her arrival in Alabama? Nothing came to mind. “No, sir. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to take in much of the local culture. I spend most of my free time on post, sir.”
General Suddath’s smile broadened. “Well, sergeant, you’re going to see a lot more of the civilian community starting today.”
Tension raced up Jane’s spine. “Sir?”
“You’ve been assigned to support Camp Serenity as the physical training instructor for the next two weeks. And, if this special trial period proves successful—which I have no doubt that it will—you will be detailed to that assignment for the next six weeks.”
Jane’s heart dropped into her combat boots. “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”
“What’s to understand, sergeant?” One thick, gray eyebrow arched in challenge. “Do you have a problem with your orders?”
Jane stiffened. “No. sir.”
“I’m counting on you, sergeant,” the general pressed. “This assignment is particularly close to my heart. As well as Mrs. Suddath’s,” he added with obvious affection. “She’s an avid supporter of weight loss and physical training programs. I need this to program to be a success, Sergeant Passerella.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Then fall out, sergeant, your assignment begins immediately.”
~*~
“Damn.” Tom Caldwell blew out a disgusted breath, then ran his fingers through his hair to massage his aching skull. If he didn’t get some help around here soon, he was going to be buried alive by paperwork. Not to mention he was lonesome. He glanced at the empty corner by the door. This time last year Jack, his big old Labrador, had occupied that spot. Tom still missed his best friend. He couldn’t remember a time in his life that he didn’t have a dog. Until now.
Tom shook off the nostalgia as he shuffled the mountain of papers on his desk once more in an effort to locate his final report. He knew he’d done the report, he just couldn’t find the blasted thing. Camp Serenity operated two four-week sessions each summer, with a two-week break in between. This summer’s first session had been hell. The new physical training coach had quit mid-session.
Though the man had left Tom in a tough spot, he harbored no hard feelings. Working with troubled teenagers was not an easy task, and if the new coach couldn’t cut it, it was better that he left. But that ultimately dropped the work of PT planning and supervision in Tom’s lap—along with too many other duties to mention. Case in point, the final report he knew he had written for the camp’s first session but couldn’t lay his hands on at the moment to save his life.
It happened every summer. And every summer, Tom swore he would figure out a way to keep it from happening the next year. Physical training coaches were harder to keep than wives. Not that Tom had ever had the latter. He’d never had time. Between teaching from mid-August to late May, then overseeing Camp Serenity, he had forgone a decent social life for years. That hadn’t seemed to bother him, at least not until recently. Lately he’d found himself wondering what life would be like if he found someone to share his nights.
Another curse hissed past his lips as he shoved that thought from his head and considered the mass of papers before him once more.
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…”
There was a dramatic pause.
Tom looked up to find Reggie Travers, the camp’s arts and crafts instructor, standing in the open doorway. Tom caught himself just before he groaned. He didn’t have time for complaints this morning. And if Reggie were here, u
ndoubtedly one would follow.
“What you need is a personal secretary,” Reggie announced sagely as he removed his wide-brimmed Aussie-style hat and gingerly dusted away imaginary lint, then repositioned the hat on his balding head. “This office lacks organization and balance.”
“I don’t need a secretary, Reg.” Tom dropped the handful of papers he’d started to rifle. “I need a coach so I’ll have time to do my job.” Tom gestured to the mass of papers on his desk. He forced a smile. If he didn’t have another PT coach on staff before the next session in just two weeks—he didn’t even want to think about that nightmare. But at some point he knew he would have to think about it.
“And what can I do for you this morning?” Tom offered in the most chipper tone he could manage. He knew that look. Reg had that screwy expression on his face. The one that spelled something between annoyance and outrage…and trouble for Tom.
Reg braced his hands at his waist and strutted across the room in typical Reggie fashion, pausing a few feet from Tom’s desk. “The ladies—and I use the term loosely, I assure you—have only been here for two hours and already they’re behaving worse than last session’s hormone-overdosed adolescent bullies.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh, one that involved a lengthy display of fascinating facial expressions. “I followed your orders precisely. First, I gave the group a nice welcome speech explaining all our rules and procedures, then I showed them around our facilities. But no one paid the least bit of attention to all my effort and hard work.”
Tom rubbed at his right temple and fought the headache that threatened. He knew Reg would go on like this indefinitely if he didn’t stop him. “What’s the problem, Reg?”
“Well,” Reg rolled his eyes dramatically. “Right off the bat no one liked their cabin assignments. This one didn’t like that, and that one didn’t like this. You know what I mean.” Reg harrumphed. “They’re worse than the kids.” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “And that’s saying something. Anyway, I worked the cabin assignments out to their satisfaction.” He shook his head slowly, determinedly, from side to side, his gaze narrowed. “Then it started,” he added grimly.
Tom stared at him blankly. “What started?” he prodded, in hopes of getting to the point of the conversation in this lifetime.
Reg leveled a somber gaze on Tom. “Harassment,” he stated succinctly. “Sexual harassment.”
Disbelief hit Tom like a sledgehammer between the eyes. Sexual harassment was not a phrase a youth camp director took lightly—even for Reg who had a reputation for theatrics and serious exaggeration.
“If this is a joke, Reg, it’s not funny.”
“I beg your pardon,” Reg retorted, obviously offended. “I would never joke about the subject.” He lifted his chin defiantly, and iced Tom down with a glare. “I’ll probably have bruises tomorrow.”
Lines of confusion furrowed Tom’s brow. “Bruises? Where?” he demanded.
Reg shrugged one shoulder. “I’d rather not go into the details, since we would likely both be embarrassed. Suffice to say that the behavior of these ladies is completely unacceptable.”
The image of one of Fort McWayne’s society matrons pinching Reg on the rear suddenly filled Tom’s runaway imagination. He slapped a palm over his mouth, then rubbed his chin to prevent the grin from overtaking his lips. “Ah, Reg, I’m sorry, man, I’m sure—”
“All I want to know,” Reg cut in pointedly, “is what you’re going to do about it?”
Tom stood, opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut with a resigned shrug. How could he put this in a way that wouldn’t offend Reg’s somewhat delicate sensibilities? Yet Tom had to work this out. The new commander at the Army post had promised Tom a drill sergeant to act as Camp Serenity’s PT coach for the next session. But Tom had to do the general a small personal favor in return. Getting a core part of the camp’s regular staff to work through their break to support this little request hadn’t been a problem for Tom…at least, not until now. Everybody knew how badly he needed a PT coach.
Tom plowed his fingers through his hair again and shifted. He glanced at Reg’s indignant expression and decided there was nothing to do but to do it. He had sheltered him too long already. This would be for his own good whether he knew it or not.
“Reg, do you think the ladies’ teasing has anything to do with that” Tom gestured to Reg’s attire “safari look?”
Appalled at the presumed non-compliment, Reg’s right hand flew to his heart as if he had been mortally wounded. He looked down at himself, then glared at Tom, his eyes widening in outrage. “And just what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”
Tom glanced from Reg’s indignant face to his desk and back. Damn! He didn’t have time for this. “You know, man, you look like one of those guys on the Discovery Channel who’s about to embark on an African Safari.” Tom bit the inside of his jaw to keep a straight face and gestured again to Reg’s eye-catching clothing. “I mean, well, you have to admit that between the khaki shorts and that hat…maybe the ladies think you’re…well, you know…cute.”
“Cute?” Reg crossed his arms over his khaki-clad chest and surveyed Tom’s worn T-shirt and sweatpants. Disapproval flickered in Reg’s assessing gaze. “Is it my fault that I’m the only one around here with any sense of style?”
“I’m only saying—”
“Oh, I know exactly what you’re saying,” Reg countered. “I agreed to stay on the next two weeks for what I thought was a good cause. You told me that the ladies participating in this little retreat were serious about wanting to lose weight and allow that beautiful, thinner, more fashion-savvy woman inside them to blossom.”
God, had he really said that? Tom thought, dismayed. Yeah, he had. He’d been desperate. He needed Reg, just like he needed that new PT coach. If anyone could deal with obnoxious teenagers, a drill sergeant could. Hell, basic training instructors were some of the roughest, toughest soldiers in the Army. And if Tom was lucky and everything worked out, General Suddath might provide a coach next summer, too. Maybe even the summer after that. The man had hinted at that possibility. And it wasn’t as if a U.S. Army drill sergeant could quit and go home.
“And that’s what you’ll do, Reg,” Tom placated. He couldn’t lose Reg now. “Mrs. Suddath and the other ladies will spend the next two weeks learning to eat right, to exercise, and to coordinate their makeup and wardrobes.” Tom turned his palms upward in a helpless gesture. “And all that other stuff you know how to do so well. There’s no way I can do this without you, Reg. Nobody knows more about presentation than you. Nobody.”
Instantly Reg’s ego perked up. He lifted one still-indignant eyebrow. “Talk to them,” he demanded curtly. “For the purposes of their time here I’m their fashion consultant, not some boy toy,” he added as he turned sharply and headed toward the door.
Well, that went over like a load of rocks. Boy toy? Tom shook his head then blew out a weary breath. “Reg…” Tom tried to humor him. He didn’t want to leave him on a bad note. There was no point in both of them being miserable.
Reg paused at the door and turned back to Tom. “I’ll leave the problem in your capable hands. Because I won’t sacrifice my self-respect for anyone,” he admonished.
“I promise I’ll talk to them, Reg. You know I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t desperate,” Tom reasoned. “We need a PT coach we can count on. When the general made this offer it came with a condition that we conduct this little retreat for his wife and a few of her friends. We have no choice. You know that, don’t you? Besides, how bad can it be?”
Reg sighed dramatically. “I know,” he relented reluctantly, then frowned. He looked Tom up and down again with clear disapproval. “You know, Tom, you really shouldn’t wear gloomy gray.” He made a tsking sound. “It washes out your complexion.”
Tom glanced at his somewhat tattered, but comfortable attire, then back at Reg. They’d had this debate on Tom’s fashion sense—or lack thereof—on numerous occasions since grade school.
Not everyone had Reg’s pizzazz. Tom swallowed the nasty retort that hovered on the tip of his tongue. He had known Reg too long to take real offense. Besides, he didn’t dare tick Reg off any further. If he walked out on him, Tom would be in a hell of a fix. “Thanks, buddy, I’ll remember that.”
The sound of a vehicle skidding to a stop outside the office captured Reg’s attention. “Oh, my,” he said with feigned excitement, “it looks as if the cavalry has finally arrived.”
Hoping it was the drill sergeant he’d been promised, Tom quickly skirted his desk and hurried to the door. He could definitely deal with something going his way for a change. Today had been the pits, and tomorrow was looking even worse. A grin spread across his face at the site of the U.S. Army hummer, complete with a big, strapping soldier, parked in front of his office.
“Thank God,” Tom muttered wearily, stepping onto the wide, wooden porch.
“Or Uncle Sam,” Reg suggested from beside him.
Tom’s grin, and hopes, faltered when the soldier gave a curt wave and drove away, leaving nothing but a thick cloud of dust behind him.
Reg’s hand fluttered to his throat. “Gee, do you think it was us?”
Tom shot him a pointed glare, then stared after the retreating vehicle. Just as a frustrated four-letter word blew past his lips, Tom noticed a silhouette forming as the dust settled. He squinted to make out the figure standing some twenty feet away.
The first word that came to mind when the dust cleared completely was uniform.
Then, tiny.
Staring right back at Tom stood a mite of a soldier whose duffel bag surely outweighed her by twenty pounds. And it was definitely a her, he decided after his second appraisal of elfin features. Even wearing the shapeless camouflage military getup, she was obviously female. Whether it was those slight, but still distinguishable, curves or that pretty face, Tom wasn’t sure. He was only sure that it had to be a mistake.
