dead if ordered to.
“Ray, Daddy,” she said, when she pulled the phone close again. “You remember him. You met him the last time you came to visit?”
“Of course I remember him,” her father sputtered. “He’s the little guy who told me my uniform would look less intimidating if I wore an earring.”
Lilah smothered a chuckle she knew darn well her dad wouldn’t appreciate. But really, just the thought of her oh-so-proper, career Marine father wearing a tidy gold hoop in his ear was enough to cultivate bubbles of laughter that weren’t at all easy to subdue.
“He was kidding,” she said when she could speak without a smile in her voice.
“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced.
“I thought you liked Ray.”
“I didn’t say I don’t like him,” he said tightly. “But what do you see in those artsy-fartsy types, anyway?”
Artsy-fartsy, Lilah thought. Translation: Any man who wasn’t a Marine.
“What you need,” her father was saying, “is a man as stubborn as you are. A strong, dependable type. Like—”
“A Marine,” she finished for him. For heaven’s sake, she’d heard this speech so often, she could give it for him.
“What’s wrong with a Marine?” he demanded, clearly defensive.
“Nothing,” she said, wishing they weren’t having this conversation…again.
Lilah sighed and plopped down onto her overstuffed couch. Curling up into a corner of the sofa, she cradled the receiver between her ear and her shoulder and tugged the hem of her dress down over her updrawn legs. “Daddy, Ray’s a nice guy.”
“I’ll take your word for it, honey,” he said grudgingly. “But do you really think he’s the right guy for you?”
No, she didn’t. Ray’s image rose up in her mind and Lilah smiled to herself. Short, with nearly waist-length black hair he kept in a thick braid, Ray was an artist. He wore diamonds in his ears, favored tunic shirts and leather sandals and was absolutely devoted to his life partner, Victor.
But, he was also one of Lilah’s closest friends. Which was the only reason he’d agreed to let her tell her father that they were engaged. Victor wasn’t the least bit happy about it, but Ray had been an absolute doll.
And seriously, if she hadn’t been about to go spend a few weeks with her father, this never would have happened. But she simply couldn’t stand the idea of having another parade of single officers thrown at her feet. She didn’t much like the idea of lying to her dad, but really it was his own fault. If he’d quit trying to get her married to some “suitable” Marine, she wouldn’t have to resort to such lengths, would she?
“Ray’s wonderful, Daddy,” she said, meaning every word. “You’ll like him if you give yourself a chance.”
He grumbled something she didn’t quite catch and a twinge of guilt tugged at her heart. Jack Forrest wasn’t a bad man. He just never had been able to understand his daughter.
As her father changed the subject and started talking about what was happening on the base, she listened with half an ear as her gaze drifted around the living room of her tiny, San Francisco apartment. Crimson-red walls surrounded her, giving the small room warmth. Sunlight streamed through the unadorned windows, painting the old fashioned, deeply cushioned furniture with a soft golden glow that shimmered on the polished, hardwood floors. Celtic music drifted to her from the CD player on the far wall and the scent of burning patchouli candles filled the air with a fragrance that relaxed her even as her fingers tightened around the phone in her hand.
She hated lying to her father. After all, lying wasn’t good for the soul. Besides, she had a feeling it caused wrinkles, too. But as soon as her visit with him was over, she’d call and tell her dad that she and Ray had broken up. Then everything would be fine.
Until their next visit.
But she’d burn that bridge when she came to it.
“I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport,” he said and Lilah’s attention snapped back to him.
“No, that’s okay,” she said quickly, imagining some poor Private or Corporal delegated to driving the Colonel’s daughter around. “I’ve already arranged for a car. I’ll be there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“You’re uh…not bringing Ray along, are you?”
She almost laughed again at the discomfort in his voice. Oh yeah. She could just see Ray on base. What a hoot that would be.
“No, Daddy,” she said solemnly, “it’s just me.”
There was a long pause before he said, “All right then. You be careful.”
“I will.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing you, honey.”
“Me, too,” she said wistfully, then added, “’Bye, Dad,” and hung up. Hand still resting on the receiver, she stared at it for a long minute and wished that things were different. Wished for the zillionth time that her father could just accept her—and love her—for who and what she was.
But that would probably never happen. Since she was the daughter of a man who’d always wanted a son.
“I’d consider it a personal favor, Gunnery Sergeant,” Colonel Michael Forrest said, planting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingertips together.
Escorting the Colonel’s daughter around base a personal favor? Well, how was a man supposed to get out of something like that? Kevin Rogan wondered frantically. Sure, he could turn the man down. He wasn’t making this an order—hell, Kevin wasn’t sure he could. But then again, he didn’t have to. Making it a “favor” practically guaranteed Kevin’s acceptance.
After all, how was he supposed to turn down a request from a superior officer?
He bit down hard on the words he wanted to say and said instead, “I’d be happy to help, sir.”
Colonel Forrest gave him a look that clearly said he was under no misconception here. He knew damn well Kevin didn’t want to do this, but would, anyway. And apparently, that was all that mattered.
“Excellent,” the Colonel said, pushing up from his desk to step around the edge of it. He walked across the floor of his office and looked out the window onto the wide stretch of the base two stories below.
Kevin didn’t have to look to know what the other man was seeing. The everyday hustle and bustle of a recruit depot. Troops marching. Marines. Squads. Drill Instructors shouting, calling cadence, trying to whip a bunch of kids into something resembling hard-nosed Marines.
May sunshine blasted against the window, splintering like a prism as it poured into the room. A wisp of ocean air swept beneath the partially opened window and carried the faint sounds of marching men and women. The distant rumble of a jet taking off from the San Diego airport sounded like the far-off stirrings of thunder.
“I
