“Drop your pants, Sergeant.”

Ray Darling looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Well, Nurse Pritchard. I didn’t know you cared.”

The nurse tried not to smile, but Ray could see that the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. Still, she did have that hypodermic needle in her hand.

So Sergeant Darling sucked it in and did as he was told. Getting a gamma globulin shot because somebody who worked in the base snack bar had contracted hepatitis B was bad enough, but having the “Ice Princess Nurse,” Prickly Pritchard, give it to him made it twice as bad. It surprised him that she’d actually responded to his lame line.

Prickly Pritchard was probably the best-looking nurse in the flight surgeon’s clinic. Ray was just as attracted to her as anyone else at Hurlburt Field, but more experienced men than he had tried to pierce her icy reserve and failed.

“Fire away, ma’am,” he said. He was a combat controller. He was tough. He could handle one small needle.

It was worse than he expected. Ray bit back a groan as the serum went in. He couldn’t help wondering if Prickly Pritchard got her thrills out of inflicting pain.

“Pull ’em up, Sergeant. I’m finished,” Nurse Pritchard said. “You can go.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve read so many romances that portray military men as rough, tough caricatures that I felt I had to write about the wonderful, three-dimensional men I had a chance to know when I was growing up as an army brat, and as an adult with an air force husband. Sure, these men are physically fit and trained in weapons and covert techniques, but they have hearts and minds and feelings, as well.

Most of these guys can certainly assault a building with guns in both hands if they have to, but more often they are Little League coaches and Boy Scout leaders. They eat MREs (Meal, Ready to Eat) if they have to, but they can also grill a steak and toss together an omelet. If they have any shortcoming, it’s that they fall in love too hard, and too fast.

Ray Darling is one of those guys, and he has to work hard to get Prickly Patsy Pritchard to give him a second glance. When she finally does, it’s magic. I hope you’ll love Ray (Radar) Darling as much as Patsy and I do.

Fondly,

Bonnie Gardner

Books by Bonnie Gardner

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

876—UNCLE SARGE

911—SGT. BILLY’S BRIDE

958—THE SERGEANT’S SECRET SON

970—PRICELESS MARRIAGE

Sergeant Darling

Bonnie Gardner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Mud, as always.

To all the men who’ve had to leave their women behind to fight for their country, and all the women who waited at home with yellow ribbons on their mailboxes and in their hair.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“Drop your pants, Sergeant.”

Ray Darling looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Well, Nurse Pritchard. I didn’t know you cared.”

The nurse tried not to smile, but Ray could see that the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. Still, she did have that hypodermic needle in her hand.

So Sergeant Darling sucked it in and did as he was told. It was bad enough to have to submit to getting a gamma globulin shot because somebody who worked in the base snack bar had contracted hepatitis B, but to have the “Ice Princess Nurse,” Prickly Pritchard, give it to him made it twice as bad. It surprised him that she’d actually responded to his lame line.

Prickly Pritchard was probably the best-looking nurse in the Flight Surgeon’s Clinic at Hurlburt Field, near Fort Walton Beach on the northern panhandle of Florida. She had a curvy figure that could put any underwear model to shame, blond hair, blue eyes and flawless skin. Unfortunately, the good nurse was as prickly as a cactus. Not that that seemed to matter to the servicemen who came to her clinic. Her signature rebuffs to anyone who showed the slightest attraction to her only succeeded in fanning the flames of interest and speculation by every red-blooded male on base.

Ray was just as attracted to her as anyone else on Hurlburt, but more experienced men than he had tried to get through her icy reserve and failed, so he had never tried. It sure would be a big boost to his ego if Ray were able to get to first base when the hotshot aviator types who believed they were God’s gifts to women hadn’t been able to melt through her icy shield.

It was worth a try. Just not today.

He might be an excellent sergeant after ten years in the air force, but he still hadn’t perfected his social skills. That had been one of the drawbacks of being a “boy genius,” something he’d done his best to conceal when he’d enlisted, mostly by keeping his mouth shut to keep his larger-than-average vocabulary from being apparent.

Twelve-year-olds in high school didn’t date, and when he’d enrolled in college at fourteen, he hadn’t had much time to try. And when he had, he’d struck out with the older women in his classes. After a while, he’d just quit trying.

And after he’d defied his parents and joined the air force instead of going on to graduate school at eighteen, he’d spent so much of his time learning how to be a good sergeant and trying to be a “regular guy” that dating hadn’t been a priority. Now at twenty-eight, he wished he’d had as much training in that particular area as he’d had in all things air force. Unfortunately, no book taught that particular skill. Not in any useful way, anyway. Although, the tired old line he’d heard in the movies had seemed to put a tiny dent in Nurse Pritchard’s armor.

“Fire away, ma’am,” he said, flinching as he felt the swipe from the alcohol wipe and steeled himself for the jab of the needle. He was a combat controller. He was tough. He could handle one small needle.

It was worse than he’d expected. Ray bit back a groan of pain as the serum went in. Damn. He’d thought he was prepared for it, but this was nowhere close to what he’d expected. He couldn’t help wondering if Prickly Pritchard got her thrills out of inflicting pain.

“Pull ’em up, Sergeant Darling, I’m finished,” Nurse Pritchard said, her tone all business. “You’ll be sore, but you’ll live. You can go.”

Ray half expected her to slap him on his butt, but thankfully, she didn’t. Figuring now wasn’t the best time to try anything with her, Ray pulled up his trousers and made a rapid exit.

He wasn’t really beating a hasty retreat. He’d been summoned by his commanding officer, for what he didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to hang around and trade shots with Pritchard, even if he thought he’d gotten in a couple of points with that twitch of a smile. She’d already won anyway, he thought with a wry smile, and resisted the urge to rub his rump, as he strode away.

“YOU KNOW, that one’s pretty cute, Patsy,” Senior Airman Nancy Oakley, the receptionist, commented to Nurse Pritchard as she stepped into the waiting room to call her next patient. “If I didn’t have my own personal sweetie, I might give him a run for his money,” she continued, patting her pregnant stomach.

“I’m sure Andy would love to hear that,” Patsy said with a smile. Nancy was right, though. Sergeant Darling was as cute as his name. No, he wasn’t cute, he was downright gorgeous. “And you know my rule about not getting involved with men that come through the clinic, so that leaves both of us out,” she added as she considered the man who’d just left the examination room.

The sergeant certainly qualified as tall, dark and handsome, in spite of the thick plastic government issue glasses he wore. The guys called them B.C., for birth control, because they were so darned ugly. But even with the glasses, or maybe in spite of them, Ray Darling could turn heads. And if Ray Darling could turn hers, he could turn anyone’s.

“You know, he’d really look great if he’d take off the glasses,” Nancy said, handing Patsy the file for her next patient.

Patsy laughed. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. But then the glasses work for him. They make him look smart and kind instead of dangerous like some of the other guys he works with. And I think he really is different from those macho bruisers in the special operations squadron. He’s always so quiet and polite when he comes into the clinic.”

“Yeah, I like that tongue-tied, shy-with-girls kind’a thing,” Nancy said. “And the glasses do nothing to disguise that square jaw.”

“So true,” Patsy agreed, thinking less about Sergeant Darling’s jaw than his broad back, narrow waist and well-shaped buns, which she’d seen at close quarters. And if Sergeant Darling’s little quip was any indication, he’d started getting over his shyness. And she rather liked that.

Not that it made much difference.

She didn’t have to worry about Sergeant Darling or any of the other men assigned to Hurlburt Field making passes at her. She’d rebuffed so many advances from men who came through the clinic that only the worst egomaniacs kept asking. Sometimes she wished the others would persist, too.

Patsy drew in a deep breath, or maybe it was a sigh. Today, because of her brief exchange with Sergeant Darling, was one of those times.

RED BERET IN HAND, Ray rapped on the jamb of Colonel John Harbeson’s open office door before stepping inside. “You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked when the colonel looked up.

Harbeson beckoned Ray inside. “No, Radar,” he clarified, then he smiled. “Actually, my wife wants to speak to you.”

Ray winced at the nickname he hated, but he wasn’t about to correct his commanding officer, and it sure beat “Darling,” which some of the guys had tried to tack onto him when he’d been new to combat control. It was his name, but still…

Once inside, he could see that the colonel wasn’t alone. He hadn’t noticed Mrs. Harbeson sitting on the long couch that took up most of the wall just inside the door. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said as he folded his beret and stuck it into one of the many pockets on the legs of his uniform. “I didn’t see you there.”

He couldn’t imagine what she could possibly want to see him about. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“Please, Radar, call me Marianne. I’m not your commanding officer,” she said, gesturing for Ray to sit beside her. “John is.”

“Yes, m—I mean, Mrs. H—I mean, Marianne.” That had been hard. Mrs. Harbeson was closer to the age of his mother than any of his friends. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stand.” To reinforce his statement, Ray settled into the parade rest stance, infinitely more comfortable than sitting would have been today. After all, he’d just had an injection in his keister.

“Suit yourself,” Mrs. Harbeson said. “I suppose you’re wondering what I could possibly want from you.”

Ray nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Harbeson arched a well-shaped eyebrow at the ma’am, but she didn’t correct him again. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Ray blinked. “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I give up.”

“Ma’am?”

“Call me anything you want, Radar. Just don’t call me sir.”

“No, ma’am.” Ray wished Mrs. Harbeson would just get on with it.

Smiling, she said, “My women’s club is holding a bachelor auction to raise money for an addition to the enlisted widows’ home, and I was hoping that you’d agree to be one of the bachelors we could auction off.”

“Excuse me?”

He could not have heard her right. She wanted him to be auctioned off? No, that was not possible. Why would anyone want to spend good money on him? Even for charity. He was, now, and always had been, a quiet, smart guy. Not quite a geek, but close enough. Hell, he even wore glasses. He’d heard about the kinds of guys they used for those charity things. They were celebrities, hunks. Hell, they knew the right things to say in those kinds of situations. They knew how to talk to women. He was more comfortable programming a computer.

“You heard me, Radar. I want you to be one of our eligible bachelors. You are eligible, aren’t you? You haven’t gotten engaged or married since we chatted at the Christmas party last year, have you? You aren’t going out with anyone special?”

“No, ma’am,” Ray said, still shocked by the woman’s request. “Are you sure you want me?” There had been quite a marriage boom in his squadron recently, and Ray supposed that Mrs. Harbeson had been forced to scrape pretty close to the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Why else would she be asking him to participate?

Mrs. Harbeson’s request had him sweating suddenly, and Ray wiped his damp hands on the legs of his BDU—his battle dress uniform. He was sweating because he was actually seriously considering accepting. Maybe the shot he’d had earlier had affected his brain.

“Yes, Radar,” Mrs. Harbeson said. “I think you’d be perfect for this assignment.”

Considering that a request from his commander’s wife was as good as an order from her husband, he’d best accept, he thought. Even if it was against his better judgment. Besides, he might actually meet someone interesting.

Yeah, right.

“All right, ma’am. You’ve got your bachelor.” Ray turned to the colonel who had been strangely silent during this weird conversation. “Do you need me for anything else, sir?”

The colonel grinned. “Nothing, Ray. Marianne will fill you in on the details later. Thanks.”

Ray stepped out of the office.

“Oh, and Radar,” the colonel called. “Send Sergeant Murphey in to see me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ray said. And he promptly hurried out to find his buddy Danny Murphey, who, apparently, was about to get pressed into service as well.

“I DON’T CARE if you do have two tickets, Aunt Myrt. I will not participate in that disgusting example of sexism,” Patsy Pritchard told her aunt emphatically as she watched Myrtle primp for the Women’s Auxiliary Bachelor Auction and Dinner.

Patsy knew exactly what her Aunt Myrtle was up to, and she wasn’t about to encourage her in any way. “If, or when, I decide to start dating again, I’ll do it on my own terms, not because I had to buy someone to take me out.”

“But, Patricia, it’s been years since your husband died. A beautiful young woman like you shouldn’t be sitting at home alone at night with her cats. You need to be out having fun, seeing people.”

Not that again, Patsy protested to herself. Why couldn’t Aunt Myrtle understand that she was perfectly happy with the way things were? “I am not a hermit. I see plenty of people every day.” She paused, then went on when it looked as if Aunt Myrtle was going to object. “And I know perfectly well that when you say people, you mean men. I have a job where I see men daily. If I wanted to go out, I would not have any problems getting a date,” she said archly.

Not that she wanted any. Now that men had pretty much given up asking, she was perfectly happy with the status quo. Most of the time.

She’d had a man. She’d had a husband and a family. She wasn’t ready to replace them. She and Ace had been head over heels in love, and it had been too hard to lose him. She’d become a widow at twenty-one when Ace and the kids had been killed in a traffic accident. It had been a blow she’d very nearly not gotten over. “Besides, they’re your cats. I have a dog.”

Myrtle positioned her red pillbox hat over her gray-and-white streaked Gibson-girl upswept bun and secured it with a hat pin. Setting the scarlet-colored ostrich plume at a jaunty angle, she glanced in the oval mirror above the table by the front door and fussed with the ruffle of her purple silk blouse. She pinched her cheeks and smacked her lips to spread her fire engine red lipstick. “I’m ready.” She turned to Patsy and posed. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Not a chance. You give that other ticket to someone else.”

“DAMN, I FEEL LIKE a gorilla in this monkey suit,” Ray grumbled as he and Danny made last-minute adjustments to their formal “dress-mess” uniforms backstage before the auction. Thank goodness they’d been permitted to wear those rather than the tuxedos he’d heard some of the other bachelors were wearing. At least, he and Danny wouldn’t look like penguins.

While Ray viewed the event as nothing short of torture, Murph actually seemed to be looking forward to it. Of course, Danny’s prowess with women was legendary, and he’d even lived with a woman for a while. Ray hadn’t had any such experience to fall back on. As far as he was concerned, this was worse than any military inspection he’d ever endured.

He stuck a finger under the collar of his uniform and tried to loosen it. He had opted for the clip-on version of the regulation black bow tie, but his shirt collar was still tight against his Adam’s apple.

“Stop fidgeting,” Mrs. Harbeson said, appearing suddenly, and Ray snapped to attention. “You look very handsome, Radar. I am so glad you wore your good glasses.”

“I only wear the B.C. glasses on duty,” he said.

Mrs. Harbeson smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. Now relax. Have a good time. I expect you to bring the Auxiliary a good price.”

“I’ll do the best I can, Mrs. H.” Ray had finally relaxed enough to begin calling Mrs. Harbeson that, which she seemed to prefer to ma’am.

She turned to Danny. “You look handsome as ever tonight, Danny. Will you try to get Radar to loosen up for me, though?”

Danny grinned. “Doing my best, Marianne. But you have to know that I’m going to bring in the most money. Can’t let Ray Darling outdo the Irish Don Juan.”

Someone called to Mrs. Harbeson. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. Chuckling to herself, she hurried away to see what the other woman wanted.

“What say, Radar? You think you’ll do better than me in this auction?”

“Don’t know, but are you interested in making a friendly little bet?” One that Ray was certain to lose. Murph was known for his way with women.

“You got it in one, my man,” Danny said, his green Irish eyes smiling. “Loser has to spring for a case for the team.”

“You’re on. Just bear in mind that I get to pick the brew if I win.” Ray grinned. “And I go for the imported stuff.”

“Yeah, right,” Danny snorted. “You win this thing, and I’ll eat my little black book.”

Ray grinned. Now, that would be worth seeing, but the chances of it happening were pretty slim, as far as Radar was concerned. He’d just be happy to get this dog-and-pony show behind him.

The lady from the local television station who’d been invited to emcee took her place at the podium to the side of the stage. Someone in the wings called for everyone to be quiet and then she directed the bachelors to the waiting area in the wings.

They’d barely found their places when the emcee announced the first bachelor. Ray breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t he. Then he settled back to see how the other guys handled the job. He knew everything there was about infiltrating an enemy camp or setting up field communications under fire, but here he was completely out of his element.

Time dragged on. Danny went for $450, one of the higher totals, and Ray didn’t hold out much hope that he’d best his buddy. Meanwhile, the suspense was killing him. He was going to be the last guy to be called out on stage!

At last he was introduced by the emcee. “And now, saving one of the best for last, give me a round of applause for Staff Sergeant Ray Darling!”

He didn’t know what was worse: having to participate in this circus act, or having to go out on a date with a perfect stranger.

He was firmly convinced that any woman who had to resort to buying a date was probably a long way from being anyone he wanted to go out with…

IMPATIENTLY PRESSING on the doorbell, Patsy Pritchard stood outside her aunt’s house waiting for her to answer the door. It was so like Aunt Myrtle to summon her over on a wild-goose chase when Patsy had plans for the evening. She wondered what it was this time.

She focused herself to remember that Myrtle was her only living relative, and without her aunt, she would be all alone in the world. She jabbed at the doorbell again and knocked loudly on the door for good measure. Was Aunt Myrt starting to lose her hearing?

“I’m sorry, Patsy dear,” Myrtle said, her voice breathy and flustered as she opened the door. She was wearing a silly, ruffled blouse with a collar that reminded Patsy of something in a portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, but otherwise her aunt seemed to be dressed to the nines.

“Did you say we were going out?” Patsy asked, glancing down at her khaki slacks and powder blue sweater set. It was fine for a movie at home, but not for the likes of the places that Aunt Myrtle usually preferred. “Was I supposed to dress up?”

“You look lovely, dear,” Aunt Myrtle said, hooking a large crocheted handbag over her arm. “Yes, we’re going out to dinner at the Blue Heron.”

“But that place must be thirty-five miles from here!” Patsy said with alarm. She had planned a private popcorn party and B-movie marathon at her apartment tonight. It hadn’t been easy to find those old Ed Wood movies, and she had been looking forward to them.

“Pish,” Aunt Myrtle said as she closed the door firmly behind her. “Those old movies aren’t going anywhere.” Had the woman read her mind?

“I didn’t say anything about movies,” Patsy protested as Aunt Myrtle steered her toward her behemoth of a car. “Why can’t we go someplace in town?”

“Because we’re meeting a nice, young man at the Blue Heron,” Aunt Myrtle said, as she opened the driver’s door of her ancient Cadillac. “And you’re always staying at home watching old movies. How do you expect to meet anyone like that?”

“I don’t expect to. I don’t want to. That’s why I stay at home.” Suddenly, Patsy realized that Aunt Myrtle was up to something. She stopped in her tracks. She would not be dragged out on another one of Myrtle’s arranged dates. Not only did she have zero desire to meet anyone, but Myrtle’s taste in eligible men had always been deplorable.

“Oh, but you must, Patsy dear. I paid a thousand dollars for him.”

“You did what? Surely, I did not hear you correctly. What could possibly have possessed you to hire an escort! She hadn’t meant to, but Patsy had allowed her voice to go shrill with the last word.

Aunt Myrtle shook her head as she climbed inside. “Really, Patricia, you have been reading the wrong kind of literature. Or did you get that foolish idea from those old movies you’re always watching?” She paused long enough to take a breath, but not long enough for Patsy to come up with a decent answer. “He’s one of the bachelors from the auction. If you had gone with me, you could have had the pick of the lot. My treat!” She slid across the bench seat and pushed open the passenger door. “Instead, I had to do the choosing myself.”

Patsy stood with one hand resting on the top of the pink Cadillac, closed her eyes and sighed. One thousand dollars! Even though Aunt Myrtle could easily afford it, it was still a great deal of money. Much more than Patsy could afford to squander on a night out. But Aunt Myrtle would be there with them, so it wasn’t exactly like a blind date. She just hoped that Myrtle’s taste in men had improved since the slope-shouldered accountant she’d fixed her up with the last time.

“I give up.” Patsy couldn’t believe she was really going to do this. “I can’t let you have wasted all that money. I’ll go, but under duress,” she added emphatically. And I won’t enjoy it, she didn’t say out loud.

“Of course, dear,” Aunt Myrtle said knowingly as she started the engine. “Perhaps, you ought to get in,” she shouted over the engine noise.

Heaven help her! Patsy did.

RAY WONDERED WHY Miss Carter had selected such an out-of-the-way place as he drove his new Honda CRV east along Highway 98 through the darkening countryside of the Florida Panhandle. The stunted shrubby trees and the tall, gangly pines of this part of the country looked strange to him after growing up among the majestic firs of the Pacific Northwest. But the soil here was sandy and poor and couldn’t support the same sort of vegetation as his verdant and green home state of Washington.

What was so wrong with the niece that the aunt had to spend a thousand dollars for a date for her and keep her hidden from civilization? Miss Carter was strange enough. God help him if the acorn had fallen too close to the tree.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to look at the positive side of this. It would give him a chance to practice dating and not ruin his chances with someone who might actually matter. An image of Nurse Pritchard flashed through his mind. Now, that was a challenge worth taking. Sort of like scaling Mount Ranier.

He chuckled and shook the notion out of his head.

Finally, after miles of driving through nowhere, with only occasional glimpses of the Gulf of Mexico through the trees, he came upon civilization. At least, what passed for it around here. There was a cluster of condominiums and shops on one side of the road, and on the other was the regular complement of seaside villas, motels and restaurants. Finally, he spotted the Blue Heron and pulled into the crushed-oyster-shell parking lot. After parking, he checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. Satisfied, he stepped outside, then drew in a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself, striding toward the building.

Inside, he talked to the hostess and was shown to the Carter table. Miss Carter waved as she saw him coming and he waved back, but Ray was more interested in the niece—his date.

Her back was to him, but so far, the woman didn’t look too bad. She had long, wavy blond hair, worn down so that it cascaded over her shoulders, and she was wearing something in light blue. He could see that she’d caught her hair with a barrette on one side to keep it away from her face, but he still couldn’t see it.

Then the woman, alerted by her aunt’s cheerful waving, turned his way, and Ray froze in his tracks.

No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be possible for two women to look so much alike, and yet so different. Could this lovely vision in front of him really be…

Chapter Two

Patsy turned around and almost choked on the wine she’d just sipped. No, it couldn’t be. She looked again. Dressed in charcoal-gray Dockers, a white turtleneck and a navy sport jacket to ward off the chill of a late March cold front, stood the last person she ever expected to see here. Sergeant Raymond Darling in attractive designer glasses—she didn’t know why she noticed them, but she did—dominated the space between their table and the next one, seeming to suck the very oxygen out of the air.

He, bless him, seemed as shocked to see her as she was to see him.

They looked at each other, unable to draw their gazes away, until Ray swallowed. Patsy watched, fascinated as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Sort of feels like being trapped in the headlights of a speeding train,” he finally said under his breath. He hadn’t really directed his comment to Patsy, but she understood that it was intended for her, and she doubted that Aunt Myrtle had heard him.

“Good evening, Miss Carter,” he said to Aunt Myrtle, then he nodded toward Patsy, and she forced a tentative smile, welcoming smile.

“Good evening, Raymond. I’ve always appreciated promptness in a man,” Myrtle Carter returned. She offered him a bejeweled hand, and Ray wasn’t sure whether to kiss it or shake it. He opted for the latter.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ray said, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the fourth chair. “I strive to be on time. The air force pretty well requires it,” he added. On the way over he had told himself that the sooner he got there, the sooner this fiasco would be over and done with. Now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted the evening to end quickly. The aromas emanating from the restaurant’s kitchen were delectable, and Patsy Pritchard wasn’t bad to look at, even if she seemed to be wound as tight as a spring.

“Patsy, you must meet my guest,” Myrtle Carter said in a tone that reminded Radar of a queen—maybe the silly ruffled collar had something to do with it. “Patsy, this is my new young friend, Sergeant Raymond Darling.”

She looked up at him and forced a smile. This was so awkward. She’d seen this man in his skivvies; his well-honed physique had been bared to her, the memory of which made if difficult for Patsy to breathe, much less speak. And he looked military through and through tonight, even dressed casually. That turtleneck stretched tight over a chest that was at least a yard across….

Then he looked down at her and grinned, and Patsy couldn’t help grinning back.

Oh Lord, if she hadn’t been sitting down, that smile might have melted the hinges in her knees. “Sergeant Darling,” she murmured, hoping that her agitation wasn’t evident in her voice.

“Please, call me Ray,” he said and offered his hand.

Patsy accepted it. “Ray,” she said, a slight catch in her voice. Now she’d be given away for sure. Her heart was beating like a tom tom, and she was certain that Sergeant Darling would be able to feel her pulse racing when they shook hands. Or maybe he wouldn’t. His grip was so tight that Patsy was sure she wouldn’t be able to move her fingers for at least an hour once he let it go.

Patsy jerked her hand away and shook it to get the circulation going again. “At work they call me Pat.”

“Sorry,” Ray said. “It’s easy to forget one’s own strength.”

“I may not be able to move my hand for days,” Patsy said, flexing her fingers.

“Silly,” Aunt Myrtle said. “No harm done. Your fingers are working just fine.” She turned to Ray and patted the empty chair between Patsy and herself. “Please, sit down. We’ve been waiting to order.”

Ray sat, then picked up his menu and perused it. “What’s good here?” he asked, looking over the top of the menu. Just seeing his raised eyebrows set Patsy’s heart fluttering.

“Anything and everything,” Patsy answered, still slightly breathless. The reason she knew about the menu was that Aunt Myrt often brought her here.

“Then I think I’ll try the amberjack,” Ray said, closing the menu.

Like the grande dame of the manor, Myrtle signaled for the waiter who scurried right over and took their orders. Then they settled back to wait.

“Why don’t the two of you get acquainted while I go powder my nose?” Aunt Myrtle suggested.

That was the last thing she needed, Patsy thought. To be left alone with superhero-in-disguise Sergeant Darling. Even in the middle of this crowded restaurant.

“Sure. But, your lovely niece and I are already old friends,” Ray said.

“Oh?” Myrtle, a frown of consternation on her face, stood poised halfway in and out of her chair.

“Yes. I have had occasion to partake of her professional services at the clinic from time to time,” Radar said.

At least, he hadn’t mentioned the most recent event, Patsy was relieved to hear. How she had hated jabbing that needle into that firm, perfect butt, though looking at it hadn’t been a chore at all. She felt her face grow warm. “Yes,” she said, nodding vigorously, hoping that the motion would erase the flush. It didn’t. “I’ve seen him in the clinic.” Boy, had she seen him!

“Well, that’s even better than I’d hoped. You’re already friends,” Myrtle said, more to herself than them, as she hurried away. She paused to speak to the waiter, then hurried out of the main dining room.

Friends? Patsy thought. I hardly think so. Enemies. Not hardly. Boyfriend/girlfriend? No, she shouldn’t be thinking about that. After all, she had a firm policy about dating men she saw at the clinic. Any men, really, but maybe her aunt was right. Maybe it was time for that to change.

“So, your aunt calls you Patsy,” Ray said, placing his napkin in his lap and leaving his hands braced against his muscled thighs.

“Yes,” she said primly, happy to have been afforded the change in her direction of thinking. She put her hands in her lap as well. “She’s the only one I let get away with it.”

“Why is that? I like it. It suits you,” Ray said.

She’d liked it, too, when her parents had called her that, or her late husband. But it seemed as though everyone who’d ever cared about her had died and left her alone, so she didn’t encourage that particular intimacy anymore. It evoked too many memories. “I don’t!” she lied, her voice sharp.

“What do you want me to call you, then?”

Patsy knew well what the men in the clinic called her behind her back, so she had to give Ray an alternative. “Pat will be fine.”

“All right, Pat,” Ray said. “Pleased to meet you.” He paused. “Do you come here often?”

Patsy had to smile. It almost sounded like a pickup line. “Yes, it’s one of Aunt Myrtle’s favorite restaurants. Our family had a summer home on this stretch of beach years ago. I’m afraid Hurricane Opal took care of it, and Aunt Myrtle didn’t bother to rebuild.” She glanced around the familiar restaurant. “The hurricane took the Blue Heron out, too, but they rose from the rubble.” She smiled. “I must admit, I liked the old version better.”

Ray glanced around the room, decorated in the traditional trappings of Gulf Coast seafood establishments: old fishing nets, shells, starfish, stuffed fish, or maybe they were fakes, he didn’t know. It looked like any or all of at least a hundred other restaurants on the Gulf of Mexico. “Has it changed much?”

Patsy shrugged.

As Ray inspected the room, he paused and glanced out the window that overlooked the parking lot. A moving car caught his eye. “Look, it’s a vintage Cadillac, complete with fins. You don’t see many of those around anymore.”

Patsy jerked her head around so fast to look that she almost dislocated her neck. “Oh, no! That’s Aunt Myrtle’s car!”

“She must be moving it to a better parking spot.”

“I wish,” Patsy muttered. No such luck, she thought as the waiter arrived with only two salads.

Ray looked up. “You forgot one.”

“One what, sir?”

“One of the salads. There are three of us.”

“Oh, no, sir. The lady cancelled her order. Said she had a headache. But she told me to tell you to please stay,” the waiter assured them. “Miss Carter said there was no reason to ruin your evening.”

None, indeed, Patsy thought. “She probably planned this,” Patsy muttered, placing her napkin on her plate and pushing herself up. “I should have known.” She blew out a frustrated puff of breath as she hurried to the window, her eyes flashing with anger.

Then Ray realized what Miss Carter was up to. She had left him alone—if you could call being left in a crowded restaurant on a Saturday night being alone—with Prickly Pritchard, the ice princess. And he wasn’t sure he minded one bit. If Nurse Pat Pritchard was something to see in her starched white uniform at the clinic, she looked even better dressed in casual clothes. The blue eyes that had always appeared so icy and cold seemed warmer now, brighter, almost turquoise. Who would have thought that Prickly Pritchard could ever look that soft and inviting? Even in khakis and a sweater. Ray felt his trousers grow tight, and wishing circumstances were different, he willed himself to behave.

If she looked this good in casual clothes, dressed up, she’d be magnificent.

Patsy scanned the room, looking for someone, anyone, she could ask to take her home.

Ray joined her at the window, and Patsy felt even more trapped than she had before. But pleasantly so, she realized.

“You might as well calm down,” he said. “You’ll just end up with indigestion.”

“That’ll be my problem, then, won’t it?” Patsy snapped as she peered out the window. She all but pressed her face against the glass, hoping against hope that Aunt Myrt really had just moved the car. No such luck. As if she hadn’t known already. The only kind of luck she seemed to have was bad.

Patsy drew in a deep breath and turned, pasting on an artificial smile. No sense in letting gorgeous Ray Darling see her lose her cool. That was certainly not the image she had worked so hard to project at the clinic. “She’s gone,” Patsy said with forced calm as she hurried back to her seat and primly placed her napkin on her lap.

“I do have my own transportation,” Ray said as he seated himself again. “I didn’t hitchhike to get here. I know that we special ops guys are known to be rough and tough, but we do draw the line.”

“What?” Prickly Patsy shook her head. “What does that have to do with me being stranded here, miles from home?”

“I didn’t walk,” Radar replied with the type of patience one reserved for five-year-olds—or idiots. “I do have a car.”

“A car?” Sheesh, she sounded like a moron. “Of course. Well, I’ll just eat my salad and we’ll go.”

“I think not,” Ray said firmly, sounding nothing like the darling sergeant she had begun to think of him as. “Your aunt paid for a full meal. We will eat the entire meal. And we’ll enjoy it.” He sounded just like a drill instructor.

“Yes, sir,” Patsy snapped, then approximated a salute.

Ray chuckled. “At least, you used the right hand.” Then he dug in to his salad, and Patsy was glad he was occupied for the time being.

She made a face, and turned her attention to her own salad. “This is a little nicer than staying home with my dog, my VCR and black-and-white movies,” she murmured, her mouth full. Now why had she volunteered that particular morsel of information?

“You like old movies?” Ray asked, his eyes brightening with interest.

Patsy blushed. Ray had picked right up on her comment. Were they actually trying to make conversation? She swallowed. “Yes. And I hate it when they’ve been colorized. It makes them look too bright. Too artificial.”

“And seeing things in shades of gray isn’t?”

Did he want to argue, or was he merely making conversation? Patsy swallowed another bite of salad. “You know what I mean. The colors are often wrong.”

“Yes, I understand. Do you just enjoy the classics, or anything not in color?” Ray forked another bit of salad.

“My favorites are Casablanca, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and The Maltese Falcon.”

“A Humphrey Bogart fan, then,” Ray concluded. “What about the Three Stooges or the Marx Brothers?”

“Too silly. No woman likes them. What’s funny about three grown men poking each other in the eye and bonking each other on the head?”

“Harold Lloyd?”

“Better. At least, he’s not mean-spirited. But I prefer stuff that pretends to have a plot.” Patsy swallowed. Had she really said that?

Ray chuckled. He had such a nice smile, Patsy couldn’t help noticing. “I have to confess that I like old science fiction movies.”

“Attack of the Killer Centipedes, and The Blob that ate Albuquerque? Those kinds?” Patsy suggested, making up names.

“Planet Nine from Outer Space. Probably one of the best worst movies ever made.” Ray laughed. “And one of my favorites.”

Patsy couldn’t help smiling. Was Ray actually a fan? “You know Ed Wood?”

“Know him? I love him!” Ray broke into a wide grin. “I probably have every one of his movies memorized.”

You would, she couldn’t help thinking, but in a nice way. Ray had been reputed to be smarter than the average airman, but she’d never really had a conversation with him until now. What chitchat they’d had always seemed to lean toward the weather or the reason he was at the clinic. Now she was finding out that his interests were different than those of the typical airman, but she’d bet he was into computer games. If not computers themselves.

“I just ordered the complete Wood collection off the Internet,” she found herself confessing.

“Oh, man,” Ray said. “I think I’m falling in love.”

Then the waiter arrived with their food, and Patsy turned gratefully to her Deviled Crab. Saved by the dinner bell, she couldn’t help thinking as she chewed. Another minute and she might have found herself inviting Ray to her place for an Ed Wood Film Festival.

In spite of her reservations, Patsy was enjoying her “date” with Ray. Of course, she’d never let on to Aunt Myrtle. And deep down she knew that she wasn’t ready to invite this man, any man, into her home. She still had secrets she wanted—no needed—to keep.

RAY ORDERED the Pecan Praline Pie just to extend the evening—even if he would have to run a couple of extra miles next week to make up for it. He might be as hard and tough as an armadillo’s kneecap, but he had to work at it. His weakness had always been dessert.

At least, Prickly Patsy had ordered dessert as well. Did she always eat dessert or was she, too, looking for a way to keep the evening going?

“I am going to regret this,” Patsy said as the waiter placed the Death by Chocolate in front of her. She inhaled the rich aroma. She hadn’t even taken a bite, and Ray thought she might swoon. That was certainly a side of Prickly Pritchard he would never have imagined. The guys at the base often wondered if she survived on a diet of pickles and prunes.

“That good, huh?”

“Just the aroma seems sinful,” she said, slicing off a piece with the side of her fork. She raised it to her lips, but didn’t open her mouth. “Maybe if I just look at it, and only breathe it in, I won’t gain twenty pounds.” She looked at Ray and grinned. “No, I’ll gain it anyway just from being in the same room with it,” she said wryly. “I might as well go for the complete experience.”

Patsy popped the chocolate confection into her mouth and slowly withdrew the fork. She wore an expression of pure bliss as she chewed, and Ray wondered if that was what she looked like when she made love. What would it feel like to have her underneath him and to give her that much pleasure? Would she respond like…?

He gave himself a mental shake to rid himself of the image in his mind’s eye, but he almost exploded as he watched Patsy eat. To keep himself sane, he took a huge bite of his own dessert, and understood why Prickly Pritchard had had such a powerful reaction. The desserts here were too damned good to be legal.

“Oh, man. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he muttered.

“Even if paying for it will be hell,” Patsy said. “I’ll have to take a couple of extra aerobics classes to pay for this.”

“Yeah,” Ray said with a groan. “I’ll probably have to run ten extra miles.”

Patsy laughed and Ray loved seeing it. Here, she seemed so different from the stern, prickly nurse he’d seen so often in the clinic.

“I should think you’d be used to it,” she said. “Don’t you run wearing forty pound rucksacks on a regular basis?” She leaned on her hand and watched him with an interested expression.

“Not if I can avoid it.” Ray patted his stomach. “And after all I’ve eaten tonight, it might feel like I’m carrying two rucksacks.”

“You can handle it,” Patsy said. “You have plenty of muscles, from what I’ve seen.” She looked quickly down at her plate, but not too quickly for Ray to notice the flush that colored her alabaster skin with an embarrassed stain.

Was she thinking about the other day in the clinic when she’d had a free look at his rump, or was she embarrassed about making such a personal statement? Ray pushed his plate away and decided to change the subject. “Well, I’ve had plenty. More than plenty.” He signaled for the waiter.

“Sir?”

“We’re ready for the check.”

“The other lady took care of it,” the waiter said. “The one who left.”

“I see,” Ray said, annoyed that Miss Carter had paid for his meal. He’d fully expected to pay for this evening.

And it didn’t make him happy that the evening was about to come to an end. Considering Prickly Pritchard’s reputation for turning down dates, this was probably his one and only chance.

The question was: For what?

And why? was another question. The answer to that one was clear: he really liked this Patsy Pritchard. From what he’d learned about her tonight, there was a whole lot more to her than her clinic demeanor suggested. But was his attraction due to the challenge her “at-work” attitude presented, or was it a genuine attraction to the woman he’d glimpsed tonight?

He looked at Patsy again.

All of the above, he decided.

Chapter Three

Though she had enjoyed dinner with Ray once they realized they had interests in common, Patsy didn’t look forward to being trapped, alone with him in his car for the thirty-mile trip home. He was too big, too attractive, too real.

And it had been a very long time since she’d been with a real man. Not since Ace. And she knew how that had ended. If it hadn’t been for her sending him out that night, he would still be alive today.

“What’s the matter, pretty lady?” Ray asked as he escorted her out through the parking lot toward his waiting car.

Patsy jerked her head up to look at him. Had she been so transparent that he could read the mood on her face? She shook her head, more to banish the negative thoughts than to deny her mood. “Just thinking about something. It doesn’t matter.” Not to Ray, anyway, Patsy thought. To her, it mattered very much. Still. She glanced out at the quiet waters of the Gulf. “Oh, look at the sparkles on the water!”

Ray turned to follow her gaze and smiled. “The phosphorescence.”

“I used to think it was magic when I was a little girl,” Patsy murmured.

“Then you learned that it was a bunch of micro-organisms. Were you terribly disappointed?”

“Devastated,” Patsy admitted. “It destroyed my belief in fairies and mermaids.” She hadn’t realized it, but they had subconsciously changed their direction and were now heading toward the dark beach.

Ray chuckled. “I didn’t have any illusions to destroy. I’d already learned all about it before I saw it. The waters are too cold to hang around the beach at night in Washington, where I’m from.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see it the first time until I went to the navy dive school on Key West.”

The sea breeze off the Gulf was chilly. Patsy tugged the two sides of her sweater together, crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands into the opposite sleeves. As cold as she was, she really wasn’t ready to end this date with Ray. Even if she was still annoyed with Aunt Myrtle for tricking her into it. Even if her aunt’s intentions had been good. Even if this “blind date” seemed to be working out much better than Aunt Myrtle’s setups usually did.

She certainly wasn’t about to tell Myrtle that. Patsy smiled to herself. She wouldn’t dream of giving her aunt the satisfaction.

“Ah, that’s better,” Ray said.

Patsy looked at him just as the breeze picked up and blew her hair into her face. “What’s better?” She tried to shrug the hair out of her face, but only succeeded in getting it in her mouth, and she was too cold to uncover her fingers and brush it away.

“May I?” Ray asked, nodding toward the recalcitrant lock of hair.

She arched an eyebrow in assent, and Ray gently brushed the wayward strand away. He paused, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek, and Patsy swallowed, wondering what would come next. Did she actually want him to kiss her?

What if he did?

No, worse than that. What if he didn’t?

Ray turned his face into the onshore breeze. To him, it was invigorating, reminiscent of his summers on Vashon Island on Washington’s Puget Sound. But, he hadn’t failed to notice the chill on Patsy’s cheek. As much as he didn’t want to end the evening so soon, it was time to get Patsy into the car or she’d be shivering, chilled to the bone.

“I think March is still a little cold for walking on the beach,” he said. “This is north Florida, after all.” Ray shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over Patsy’s shoulders.

Patsy looked up and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Thank you,” she said. Had she been shivering? “It didn’t seem quite this cold outside when I left Aunt Myrtle’s earlier.”

“The shore breeze can blow through you fast. I read somewhere that more people contract hypothermia when temperatures are above freezing because they don’t think they can and aren’t prepared.”

Ray touched Patsy’s waist and was surprised at how small she felt beneath his hands. But, then most women seemed small to him. Every woman except one: his mother. Even if she was only five feet nothing, she’d always seemed huge to him.

His mother. The last time he’d seen her or his father, he had just turned eighteen. That night he had left home, against his parents’ wishes, to enlist in the air force….

Patsy stumbled in the loose, shifting sand, and Ray automatically reached out to catch her. She looked up at him, and the expression in her face seemed expectant, questioning.

Ray wanted to reach down and tip Patsy’s chin up. He wanted to kiss her the way the guys did in all the movies, but he was Ray Darling, boy genius and adult nerd. He didn’t have the moves.

The night had been going so well up until this point. He wasn’t about to jinx it now. It would kill him if Patsy turned away. He caught her arm and any hint of the windy chill left him as welcome warmth suffused his blood.

“I…Ah…Thank you,” Patsy said, and Ray had to stifle a chuckle. Was that the proper etiquette for the situation?

“For catching me,” Patsy clarified.

“Any time,” he said flippantly. He wouldn’t have minded if she had kissed him by way of thanks, but she hadn’t, so Ray guessed the moment was gone. He sighed. Maybe if he’d had a normal childhood, he might know a thing or two about what to do at times like this.

“Something wrong?” Patsy asked.

“Not really. Just having some regrets.” Then realizing what he’d said, he stopped and looked down into Patsy’s lovely blue eyes. “Not about tonight. Not about you,” he said, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended. He tried to figure out how to explain his family situation.

He shrugged. “When I got to thinking about summer in Washington, it reminded me of my parents.”

“Are they no longer living?” Patsy’s eyes always contained a look of sadness that seemed to deepen now. Ray wondered if she’d suffered some kind of a loss.

“No, they’re fine and healthy. At least, I think so. They’re just not speaking to me. For nearly ten years now.”

Patsy arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It’s not important.” Ray turned and trudged on. “We had different ideas about what I should do with my future,” he said, shrugging.

Patsy stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Family is important to me. I’d give anything to have my parents back.”

“They’re gone?”

“When I was in grammar school,” Patsy said softly, lowering her gaze downward toward the damp sand. “Aunt Myrtle raised me after they died in a plane crash.”

“I’m sorry.” What else could he say?

Patsy looked up at him again and flashed him a brilliant smile that seemed to light up the dark. “About what? That Aunt Myrtle raised me?”

“No,” Ray started to say, but then he saw that the quip was Patsy’s way of shifting from an unpleasant subject, so he dropped it. “I bet it was fun living with Myrtle.”

“It was,” Patsy said. “But it wasn’t quite normal. We lived in a big old house by the water, and I never felt comfortable inviting my friends over. We always had to be so careful, with all her antiques and objets d’art all around. And Myrtle was reluctant to let me do some of the things that I wanted to do, so I often rebelled.” She paused. “And I always wanted brothers and sisters.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re a lonely only?”

“Well, I was always too busy to be lonely, but yeah, I’m an only child. Let’s just leave it at that.”

They’d reached the parking lot, and there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Ray was content to listen to the night sounds as they trod on the crushed shells in the parking lot. The crunch of the shells, the wind as it whispered through the scrubby trees and the tinny sound of the jukebox from the Blue Heron all combined to create a unique symphony. And even if he never got another chance to go out with Prickly Patsy Pritchard, he knew he would never forget this night….

AT LEAST HE DIDN’T HAVE one of those teensy sports cars, Patsy thought with relief as Ray ushered her toward his compact recreation vehicle. The single guys at Hurlburt Field were divided into two groups: the ones who bought sports cars, and the ones who were into trucks and SUVs. Radar didn’t seem to fit into either category. Was that a good thing? She thought perhaps it was.

And he got points for opening the door for her, too. A CRV was a lot smaller than a truck or a sport utility vehicle, she realized once she was in the passenger seat and Ray had carefully shut the door. The two of them would be in close quarters in the front seat. Would he try to kiss her now that they were so close?

Patsy felt her heart rate increase, and she suddenly felt warm. Of course, she was still wearing Ray’s coat. It felt so good around her shoulders, almost like a hug. She could smell the fragrance of his aftershave and the manly scent that was uniquely him on the fabric, but reluctantly, she shrugged the jacket off.

“Be sure to buckle up,” Ray said, and Patsy complied, happy to have something to do for the moment. Then he closed the door, and the vehicle got even smaller.

Or was it just her?

How long had it been since she’d sat alone in a car with a man?

She couldn’t remember when. Once the kids were born, she and Ace had never seemed to be alone.

“Would you like to listen to the stereo, or would you prefer to talk?” Ray asked as he inserted the key into the ignition.

“Music, I think,” Patsy said, then wondered if Ray would interpret that as a rejection. “I’m curious to see what kind you like. Not techno-metal, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile.

Ray made a face, and Patsy hoped it wasn’t because he did like that kind of music. “I’ll let you decide for yourself,” he said, turning the key. He let the car idle while he selected a CD from a case he’d stashed in the console.

He inserted the disk, and the soft strains of Carole King filled the air. Patsy hummed along as she listened. The selection surprised her, but then she thought, it shouldn’t have. Every time she’d come to a conclusion about Ray Darling, he’d countered it with something new. And she rather liked the surprises.

As they waited to turn onto Highway 98, the next song came on. Definitely not Carole King. Then she recognized it: Garth Brooks’s alter ego, Chris Gaines. She liked that song, too.

“I mix and burn my own CDs,” Ray explained as he accelerated along the dark highway.

“So, I guess that means you’re pretty good with computers, then.”

Ray grinned. “Love ’em. I’m the squadron expert, even if we actually do have techies on staff.” He chuckled. “That’s part of the reason they call me Radar.”

“Oh, then it’s not for Ray Darling?”

“No,” Ray said emphatically. “When I first got assigned to the squadron, I got a lot of ribbing because of my name. You don’t know how many times I got called just plain Darling.”

There was not one thing plain about him, Patsy thought. Not even when he wore glasses.

She smiled. “Oh, I can hear it now. I need to speak to you, dar-ling,” she said in a saccharine sweet tone. “Hand me that wrench, dar-ling.”

“Exactly. I had to come up with something that would distract the guys from my name. So I dazzled them with my computer skills.”

“I’m impressed,” Patsy said. “I can use the programs we have at the clinic, and I can word process and do e-mail, but that’s the extent of my computer literacy.”

“Well, some of those old guys, the ones close to retiring were really resistant when I first came in. You know, they were used to doing it one way, and they didn’t want to try anything new.” He chuckled. “I talked ’em into it real quick. Chief Mullins was the one who started calling me Radar. I think radar was one of the few technical things he was familiar with. It saved my butt. I was tired of getting into fights about being called darling.”

“I’m sure you could have handled them,” Patsy said. “You don’t look like you’d lose many fights.”

Ray smiled wryly in acknowledgment. “Unfortunately, my technical expertise didn’t do much for my airman proficiency ratings when they were countered by reports of those fights,” Ray said, frowning. “I think it kept me as a staff sergeant for an extra cycle, in spite of my test scores.”

Patsy had wondered why he hadn’t made technical sergeant yet. He certainly seemed worthy of the promotion.

“But I made it this round,” Ray continued. “I’m waiting to see when my number comes up. Don’t know whether I’ll make tech first or get selected for Officer Training School.”

Patsy arched an eyebrow, surprised to realize that somehow he’d managed to snag a college degree, a requirement for all OTS candidates. “You graduated from college? Was it the adult education college on the base?”

“No,” Radar answered sharply. “The University of Washington,” he clarified. Then he seemed to set his jaw as if he wanted no further conversation.

Okay, Patsy thought. If that was it, that was it. She settled back against the seat and listened to the music. Something from James Taylor this time.

RAY HADN’T HEARD anything from Patsy’s side of the car for a while, not that he could blame her for being quiet. He had been damned short with her. And for no good reason. At least, not one that she’d readily understand. How do you explain that you graduated from college at seventeen and then joined the air force to find out what it was like to be a real guy?

Hell, she might turn on him for wasting his education just as his parents had.

Why couldn’t anybody understand that the air force had been an education, too? And that he still had plenty of time to go on to graduate school. And when he did go, he’d be a lot better prepared for it than when he was a kid.

He glanced in Patsy’s direction. No wonder she’d been so quiet. She seemed to be sleeping.

Though he needed to keep his eyes on the road, he kept glancing Patsy’s way. She looked almost like a child with her arm resting against the passenger-side armrest and the hard glass window pillowing her head. So serene, so relaxed. So very kissable. Radar chuckled quietly to himself. He wondered if he’d ever get the chance.

No, not if. When.

Ray smiled to himself. Prickly Pritchard was sleeping with him. Okay, maybe not in the biblical sense, but it still struck him as funny. Every single guy at Hurlburt Field had been speculating about who would be the lucky guy to get through Prickly Patsy’s reserve, and he had. Too bad he couldn’t tell anybody.

Of course, he’d never kiss and tell. Not that they’d kissed yet, nor was there a guarantee that they ever would. And if he did, he doubted anybody would even believe him. Not Radar Darling, the sergeant most likely to…break his glasses.

He hummed along with the music and steered the car through the strip of tourist motels and across the Okaloosa Bridge, which took them into downtown Fort Walton Beach. He supposed he’d have to wake Patsy up now. Otherwise, he wouldn’t know where to take her.

He stopped at a red light, and nudged Patsy’s shoulder. He’d like to kiss her awake, but that wouldn’t work in the confines of the car. And it was presuming a lot more than he dared at this point in their relationship. Assuming it wasn’t an end.

Patsy jerked awake, obviously startled.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Ray said. “We’re back in town. I need to know where to take you.”

Patsy blinked, vaguely trying to register where she was and what she was doing in this car with Radar Darling. The red light blinked to green, and the car surged forward while Patsy struggled to clear her muddy thoughts.

“Make a right on Beal,” she said groggily, then stifled a yawn. “Then a left on Hollywood.”

“Roger that,” Radar said, executing the first turn.

“I apologize for nodding off on you,” Patsy said, stifling a yawn. “I was up late last night.”

“Did you work an extra shift at the hospital or something?”

Patsy had to laugh. “No, the job at the clinic is enough work. I just stayed up too late watching an old movie on television. I’m afraid it’s one of my worst weaknesses. Then I got up early to take Tripod to the vet.”

“Tripod?”

“My dog.”

Ray nodded. He’d always wanted a dog. His parents had said it would be a distraction from his studies.

“Is he sick?”

“She. No, she was just getting a rabies booster.”

“Tripod is not exactly the kind of name I’d associate with a female dog,” Ray said, turning onto Hollywood Boulevard.

“You’d have to meet her. Then you’d understand.” Patsy looked up. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and let you drive past the turn. Turn around and then take the next right. I live in the third duplex on the right.”

Ray made the turn a little sharper than he would have preferred, but then the inertia caused Patsy to lean against him as he made the turn. He smiled as he turned onto her street, then counted the houses, small cinder block bungalows with carports on either end. “Which side?”

“I’ve got the one on the left,” Patsy said. “You can pull up behind my car in the carport.”

Ray did so, then halted the car and turned off the engine. He wondered if he should try for a kiss now, or wait until they got to the door, but Patsy took the decision out of his hands. She pushed open the passenger door and scampered out.

Ray had to scramble to catch up with her. “Where I come from, we walk our ladies to their doors.”

“Thank you,” Patsy said primly, “But this is a perfectly safe neighborhood. I’m not in danger of being mugged. And I’m not your lady.”

“Touché.” Ray grabbed at his chest as though she’d been a fencer and had nicked him with her epee. That was the Prickly Pritchard he’d come to know and love, Ray thought, relishing the idea of trying to get through to her again.

Patsy slowed and let him catch up with her as she walked to the door to the house. At the sound of her footsteps, a dog inside the house began barking excitedly. At least the barking sounded fairly friendly, Ray thought.

“What are my chances of getting to meet your roommate?” he asked. “I won’t sleep until I know why you call her Tripod.”

Patsy laughed, and the icy pall lifted. “I would hate to be responsible for keeping you up all night,” she said as she fished in her bag for keys. Ray hoped that meant that he’d be invited in. “Tripod was close to dead when I found her,” Patsy explained.

“So you rescued her and nursed her back to health,” Ray concluded.

“Not quite. I took her to the vet, thinking he’d put her to sleep, but he said that he could save her. Most of her, anyway.”

“Most of her?”

“He couldn’t save her left foreleg, so she limps,” Patsy said, smiling fondly as she leaned against the doorjamb.

Ray grinned. “Got it. Three feet—Tripod.” He had to admire the woman. Not everyone would take in a three-legged dog. “I like that,” he said.

Patsy looked up at him, real confusion on her face, and Ray wanted so much to kiss her. He reached toward her, but she ducked away. “You like what?” she asked.

“That you took pity on a poor, injured dog.”

“Oh,” she said. “I guess I’ll go in now.” She offered her hand. “Thank you for driving me home,” she said as though she were reciting something she’d learned in etiquette class.

“You’re welcome,” Ray said, accepting her hand and feeling the warmth and silky texture of her skin against his. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin on her palm. “I was kinda wondering what my chances were of getting invited in to watch the Ed Wood Film Festival.”

“Not tonight,” Patsy said, sounding nervous.

Ray grinned. “That wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for, but it does give me hope.”

Patsy looked surprised. “It does?”

“Sure. Not tonight implies that another night might be in our future.” He smiled down at her, hoping she’d pick up on the hint.

“We have no future,” Patsy snapped.

“We all have a future, Patsy,” Ray said gently.

Instead of arguing with him as he’d expected, Patsy’s eyes clouded up, and before he knew it, she had jerked open the door, darted inside and slammed the door behind her, leaving Ray standing there with the finality of that last gesture echoing louder than the sound of the door. “Just what the hell was that all about?” he muttered to himself.

Then he heard the bolt turning in the lock.

PATSY STOOD INSIDE the house, her back pressed firmly against the door, Tripod jumping up against her in greeting, her tail wagging wildly. Normally, she loved the way her dog said hello, but tonight she was not in the mood. She reached down to pet the dog, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

Why had Ray gone and spoiled it all?

For the first time in years, she’d gone out with a man and had actually begun to enjoy herself, and he’d ruined it for her. She’d even thought she might be ready for a good-night kiss, but Ray had gone and reminded her of everything she hadn’t been able to forget with that remark about the future. Of course, she had a future, and Radar had a future, but there had been no future for Ace and her children, and that was her fault.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. Loving and caring for people was wonderful, but losing them was almost like dying herself.

It seemed as though everyone she’d ever cared about had died. Now, rather than running the risk of being hurt again, she found it easier to just not care.

That was why she didn’t date. That was why she could never see Ray Darling again. She might come to care for him. Losing anyone else would just hurt too much.

Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks, scalding her skin, and rubbing salt into old wounds that never quite seemed to heal.

RAY STOOD IN THE DIM LIGHT of Patsy’s carport and tried to figure out what had just happened. He’d thought that everything was going pretty well. Prickly Pritchard might not have completely melted in his arms, but he had thought he’d detected a definite thawing.

He drew in a deep breath, shrugged and turned toward his car. She might not have allowed him a good-night kiss, but there was still that Ed Wood Film Festival to look forward to. She would agree to the evening.

It just wouldn’t be tomorrow.

Or next week, but soon.

He’d bide his time, and when the time was right, they’d watch those movies together. And next time it wouldn’t be because an old lady with good intentions had paid for them to be together.

Next time, it would be because they both wanted to be together.

Chapter Four

Patsy tried to forget the date with Sergeant Darling, but thoughts of Ray would not leave her alone. For weeks.

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