Dreaming Of Your Love (Hollywood Legends #3) (18 page)

“Cooking
is an art form.” Colt refilled their glasses before bringing their plates from
the kitchen.

“It’s
temporary. A painter or a sculptor creates something that potentially will last
forever. This, though admittedly beautiful, with be gone in minutes. All that
work forgotten.”

“I
didn’t make the meal for the world, or generations to come, to appreciate. I
did it for you. Will you forget?”

Sable
smiled. “No. Never.”

“Then
this artist is happy.”

The
meal lasted more than a few minutes. They lingered. They talked movies and
music and art. What they liked. What moved them. What made them laugh. What
made them cry.

“The
end of
Love Story
. Every time.” Colt rolled his eyes. “Come on. Ali MacGraw
in the hospital bed? It was the only time I bought Ryan O’Neal except as window
dressing. How could that not destroy you?”

“She
didn’t look sick,” Colt exclaimed. “And what disease did she have?”

“Leukemia.”

Adamantly,
Colt shook his head. “I defy you to find one reference to leukemia. It isn’t
there.”

Sable
opened her mouth to argue, then changed course when she realized something.

“How
many times have you watched
Love Story
?”

“It
only takes one time to see a plot hole that big.”

“How
many times?”

Sable
watched Colt squirm. He fiddled with his napkin. Rearranged his knife and fork.
Took a sip of wine. Her gaze didn’t waver. She knew the second she won. Colt
didn’t prevaricate when he looked her directly in the eyes.

“Six
times. But,” he added when she laughed, “In my defense, it’s one of Mom’s
favorite movies.”

“I
see. You poor baby.” Sable patted his hand with mock sympathy. “She strapped
you down and forced you to watch it with her? Should I call Child Services?”

“Smart.
Ass.”

“
Love
Story.
Lover.”

Colt
held out a few moments longer. Then he grinned. The full-on smile that made her
heart beat a little faster.

“Guilty.”
With a sigh, he threw his hands up in surrender. “When I was ten, Ali MacGraw
was my dream girl.”

“That’s
sweet.” Tongue firmly in cheek, Sable asked, “How old were you when you
discovered big breasts?”

Colt
didn’t dispute her statement.

“Remember
the girl I told you about? The one I talked into the backseat of my dad’s car?”

“I
do.”

How
could she forget? The teasing in the car. The paparazzi. The wild sex in the
garage. It made her smile. It always would. Colt returned her smile. Another
shared memory. The list grew on a daily basis.

“She
had large breasts.”

“Men
and mammary glands. It’s a mystery.”

“We’re
simple creatures, Sable. I like women’s breasts. Big, small, and everything in
between.” Colt’s eyes lowered to her chest. “I’ve become particularly fond of
yours.”

“The
in-between variety?” Sable teased.

“Perfect.”
Colt licked his lips. “Ready for dessert?”

With
studied calm, Sable dabbed her mouth with her napkin. She kept her eyes down,
hiding the spark of interest. “Dinner was delicious. And filling. I couldn’t
eat another bite.”

“I
had something non-caloric in mind.”

“Sugar-free?”
Sable wrinkled her nose.

“But
very, very sweet.” Colt pushed his chair back from the table. His deep blue
eyes teased, the heat in them building.

The
sound Sable made was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. He wanted to play?
She couldn’t have eaten another bite—but her mouth watered. She stood, backing
away. She didn’t turn. Or run. However, she maintained a fair distance between
them. If Colt wanted her, he would need to put some effort into it.

“It
was a heavy meal, Colt. I wouldn’t want you to get a cramp.”

“We
won’t go swimming.”

Colt
stalked her. Sable couldn’t think of a better word to describe his movements.
Slow. Relentless. His gaze never wavered. She was his willing prey. Nowhere to
hide. But plenty of room to evade.

Sable
began by putting the sofa between them.

“Tell
me what you have in mind. I may not be in the mood.”

Colt
raised one eyebrow. S
o that’s how you want to play this? A little cat and mouse?
Fine. I don’t mind. In the end, we both get what we want. We both win.
It
was an extremely expressive eyebrow.

“The
longer you tease, the more I’ll have to pay you back.”

“Is
that a threat?” If it were, he would have to do better. Sable liked his form of
retribution.

“A
promise.” Colt’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign he meant business. “Take off your
shirt and I’ll go easy on you.”

Sable
had never heard a better argument for staying fully clothed. Easy? No thanks.
She wanted everything he had to give. The harder and more intense, the better.

“You
first.”

Colt’s
shirt flew through the air before Sable could blink. Then she didn’t want to.
No one in their right mind would close their eyes if it meant they would miss a
second of the view he presented.

“I
didn’t say anything about your pants.”

“It
will save time,” Colt reasoned. He sent his jeans in the same direction as his
shirt. “I’ll be naked when I catch you so I can concentrate on ripping off your
clothes.”

“Rip?”

Sable
ran a finger down the buttons of the silk blouse. She was fond of her wardrobe.
Technically the items didn’t belong to her, but that didn’t mean she was
careless in her treatment of them. If she removed it from a hanger in the
morning, it was replaced that evening—with gratitude. Almost reverence.

It
wouldn’t be right to let Colt destroy a single item. No matter how good the
cause.

“There
you go.” Colt nodded when Sable slowly unbuttoned her shirt. “Cooperation is
always appreciated.”

“I’m
doing it for you, you idiot. This is silk.”

“So?”

“You
don’t rip silk.”

“I
do.” Colt fainted right, faking a move in her direction. “But if you hurry, I’ll
have mercy. The worms will not have toiled in vain.”

“Did
I say idiot? Correction. You, Colton Landis, are a first class asshole.”

“First
class?” Colt folded his arms over his puffed out chest. “Thank you.”

“First
class
asshole
.”

“Eh?”
He cupped a hand to his ear. “I didn’t hear that last bit.”

Sable
neatly folded the blouse and set it on the arm of the sofa. Next, she unzipped
her black jeans and shimmied them down her legs. A few moments later, they sat
next to the blouse. She wore two small scraps of lace. Pale pink. Feet planted
firmly, hands on her hips, she faced Colt.

“Ass.
Hole. Still can’t hear me? Come closer. I dare you.”

“Jesus.
My own warrior princess.” Colt hissed the words, his breathing harsh. “You are
the sexiest woman I have ever seen.”

“Take
me down and you can have me.” Sable circled him. She crouched slightly,
preparing for battle. “Any thing. Any way. But you have to beat me to get it.”

Colt’s
eyes flared with desire. The deepest, brightest blue Sable had ever seen. The
determination she saw written on his face took her breath away. He wanted her.

“More
than my next breath.”

Sable
didn’t question how he read her mind. She knew what he was thinking. It made
perfect sense that he could return the favor.

“I
won’t let you win.”

Colt’s
stance mimicked hers. His smile slowly widened. “I wouldn’t have it any other
way.”

SABLE OPENED HER eyes. She didn’t want to do it.
Keep them
closed. You’re warm. Relaxed. Half asleep. Colt’s arms are wrapped around your
waist, holding you close. There is no place on Earth you would rather be.

Instincts
were great. Sable followed hers more often than not. But habit ruled. The light
on her phone flashed. The slight buzz woke her and there was no going back
until she checked to see who was texting her at two in the morning.

Colt
was sound asleep. One glance told her he was out for the count. Nothing short
of an earthquake, or a blow job would wake him. On second thought, nix the blow
job. Been there, enjoyed that.

She
came out on top of their little skirmish. But they both won the battle. They
started in the living room. Then the hallway. Then up against the door. When
they finally hit the bed, Sable happily let Colt take the lead. His stamina
amazed her. The hell with that little blue pill. Pharmaceutical companies would
kill for whatever magic flowed in his blood. On the open market, it would be
worth billions. Alone in this bedroom, it was priceless.

For
a brief second, Sable considered ignoring the text. Colt was worn out and so
was she. They had a few more hours before he was due on the set. The idea of
spending them sleeping in his arms sounded like heaven. Then she glanced at the
screen and froze.

Sable
checked it again. No, her eyes weren’t deceiving her. Heart racing, she
carefully eased away from Colt and slid out of bed. She grabbed the first thing
in sight, Colt’s shirt, covered herself, and quietly padded to the door. She
took a glance behind her to make certain Colt hadn’t stirred. Her heartbeat
pounded in her ears. It wasn’t loud. It was cacophonous. Like cymbals crashing
against her head. She wondered how Colt slept through it.

Dad
.

Sable
feared the word would suddenly disappear. An illusion. A trick. But there it
was. Finally. After almost two years, her father had gotten in touch. She had
hoped for a phone call, but at this point, she would take whatever she could
get.

Sable’s
hand shook. Deep breaths. Calm. That didn’t work. Instead, she gripped the
phone and hit the screen. Any hopes she had for a reconciliation were dashed
after she read the first sentence.

What
are you doing with your life
?

Sable
closed her eyes. She should have known better. Her father would have called if
he wanted to speak to her. This was another condemnation. Cold. Emotionless. He
delivered the blow in a text because he couldn’t bear to hear her voice or see
her face. And it sliced right at her heart.

Taking
another breath, Sable forced herself to read the rest of the message.

You
left the Army. Your career. There was no explanation and you refused to listen
to reason. A bodyguard to the rich and pampered? That was bad. But this? Your
mother tells me you’ve moved in with this movie star. He’s paying your bills?
Making you the butt of jokes all over the base. I can’t ignore it because I’m
not allowed to. The pictures. The gossip. I repeat. Where is the young woman
who dreamed of impacting the world in a positive manner? Think long and hard,
Sable. I repeat. What are you doing with your life?

Carefully,
Sable set the phone on the coffee table. There was no need to read the message
again. The words were stamped on her brain. Hard and with deliberation. Her
hands were no longer shaking. She didn’t want to cry. In truth, she felt
nothing.

Once,
when Sable told her father that she was resigning from the Army, he asked her
why. And for the first time in her life, she lied to him. It hurt, but the
truth would have hurt him more. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that the
day she told her lie would be the last time she saw him. All she could see was
the disappointment etched on his face.

Would
it be different if she had told him the truth? Sable didn’t know. At the time,
it seemed like the only thing to do.

Mathias
Ford loved three things. His daughter, his country, and the Army. The Army came
first. He showed his loyalty to his country by doing his job to the best of his
ability—and beyond. Sable understood that. And she respected it. After all, it
wasn’t simply his career. It was his life. Before Sable understood what it
meant, she witnessed the sacrifices her father made to do his duty. He couldn’t
understand walking away.

Because
Sable loved him more than anything. Because she refused to be responsible for
putting a crack, no matter how small, in his absolute faith that the Army was
always right, Sable kept her secret.

With
a sigh, Sable leaned back. She rested her head against the sofa and closed her
eyes. Was she wrong? A seed of doubt crept past her staunch belief in her
decision.

Since
the day she left, Sable had refused to rehash the series of events that led up
to her decision not to re-up and hand in her resignation. Why put herself
through the pain of remembering all the dirty details? What good would it do?

Tonight,
she needed to rethink it all. For her peace of mind. And to figure out her next
move. Should she let the past stay buried? Unless he had a drastic change of heart,
that meant a life without her father. If she spoke out, would he believe her?
Or would his faith in the infallible Army be so strong, he would throw her words—her
accusations—back in her face.

Sable
needed to make a decision. She let her mind wander. Back. To where it began.

THREE YEARS AGO

“THEY SAY HE’S tough but fair.”

“We
can’t ask for more than that.”

Sable
high-fived her friend and fellow soldier, Doreen Mayfield. The other woman was
five inches shorter, had bright blonde hair and was built like a playboy bunny.
But as she said on the day they met,
Don’t let my looks fool you. I’m a
tough bitch with eyes in the
back of my head.

They
hit it off immediately. Their backgrounds were as different as could be. Sable
grew up an Army brat. Doreen came from old New England money. Debutante balls
and tea sandwiches. Doreen shuddered when she spoke of it. She joined the Army
as an act of rebellion. To her surprise, she found her vocation. Their jobs
threw them together. The love and pride they found doing those jobs bound them
as sisters.

After
an intense workout, they had cleaned up and were dressing for a much-needed
evening out. Maneuvers had kept them on the base for the last month. Tonight it
was time to let loose.

Gossip
ran rampant at the best of times, the arrival of a new C.O. amped the stakes.
They were all curious who would be replacing Colonel Maxwell. He had run Camp
Allenby with a firm hand. But if a soldier had a problem, his door was always
open. It was easy to celebrate his promotion to adjutant general. It was a huge
honor and no one deserved it more. But they were anxious for any news about the
colonel’s replacement.

The
locker room buzzed with movement and conversation. It wasn’t a large group. Of
the four thousand plus soldiers on base, only a fraction of them were women.
The Army did its best to make everything co-ed. The more the sexes mingled, the
less friction when they worked side by side. The theory worked—for the most
part. That afternoon the weight room had a ratio of about six-to-one, men to
women.

Naturally,
the post-shower conversation rolled around to the new C.O., Colonel Baker
Montgomery. Sable imagined it was the same on the men’s side.

“He’s
old Army. Married. Two sons, both at West Point.”

Geri
Frain worked in the administration office. The brunette was a whiz on the
computer but as a soldier, she was expected to stay in shape and liked to work
out with Sable and Doreen. She wasn’t privy to personnel files but she kept her
ears open. Geri liked nothing more than getting the scoop before anyone else.
Except passing it along to a rapt audience.

“He
and his wife arrived sometime yesterday. There will be a big
Meet the
C.O.
assembly tomorrow morning. The meet and greet, cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, is
scheduled for next week.”

“Think
your pops will come?”

“If
he can.”

Sable
didn’t try to hide the fact that her father was an Army colonel. What would be
the point? Nothing remained a secret for long.

On
the day she enlisted, her father made it clear that he was just that—her
father. But once she donned her uniform, he was her superior and he would not
give her special treatment. If she had a problem, he expected her to handle it through
the proper channels. There was a chain of command and it didn’t include her
father.

In
three short years, she had risen from private to corporal. As far as she was
concerned, the sky was the limit. But she would get there on her own merit, or
not at all. And that was the way she wanted it.

“Drinks
at
Shooters
?” Sable called out to the room. The invitation was open to
anyone who could make it. It was more fun with a crowd.

“I’m
in.” Geri buttoned her jacket. “Can I get a ride with you?”

“Sure.
Six thirty at the gate.” Sable picked up her duffle bag, slinging it over her
shoulder. “Doreen’s boyfriend is chauffeuring us there and back, so we don’t
have to worry about a designated driver.”

“God,
Doreen. You are so lucky to have a steady guy. I’m so horny Hillbilly Will is
starting to look good.”

“He’s
an MP,” Doreen pointed out.

“And
loves
to brag. I don’t care about the size of his sidearm.”

“From
what I hear, it’s a tiny caliber and goes off without any warning.”

“Poor
Will,” Sable said.

Doreen
and Geri looked at Sable. A second later, the three women burst out laughing.
You learned fast in the Army, or you didn’t survive. Near the top of the list,
especially for a woman? Watch out for would-be players. Men like Hillbilly Will
thought that female soldiers were there for one reason. To hit on. He expected
them to fall on their backs, grateful for the opportunity.

Men
like Hillbilly Will did not represent the majority. However, they were often a
vocal minority. The best way to handle it was to stay as far away as possible.
And laugh. God, if one didn’t have a sense of humor, Army life could be brutal.

“When
do you think we will get our orders to redeploy?”

“Soon.”
Sable held the door for Doreen and Geri.

“Afghanistan?”

“That
would be my guess.”

“I
don’t know how you do it.” Geri’s job kept her in an office hooked to a computer.

“What?
The dirt? The heat? Crapping behind a rock? Who would turn down that kind of
glamour?”

Sable
chuckled. Doreen had hit it on the head. Add dehydrated food rations and bugs
the size of her fist, and it got better and better.

“I
meant the bombs and bullets. I joined the Army because I didn’t want to spend
the rest of my life in Humble, Missouri.” Geri pushed back a stray strand of
dark brown hair. “I’ve seen a nice chunk of the world and I hope to see more.
But when I signed those enlistment papers, it was with the express
understanding I would never see combat. I admire your bravery.”

“Hell.
We aren’t brave. We’re stupid as posts.” Doreen winked at Sable. “Why else
would we ruin our manicures cleaning guns? If I had half a brain, I would be married
to a very rich lawyer. I could spend my days lounging by a pool with a drink in
one hand and the gardener in the other.”

Sable’s
eyes sparkled with humor. She knew her part in this routine. When Doreen
started waxing on about what could have been, Sable’s job was to play straight
woman.

“What
about your husband?” she asked, her tongue planted firmly in her cheek.

“He
would be too busy with his secretary to worry about my extra-curricular
activities. We would meet up once a week at the in-laws for cocktails—there are
always cocktails—and perhaps in a few years, I would pop out an heir. Ah, the
good life.”

It
was Geri’s first time hearing Doreen’s patter, but she had no problem playing
along.

“If
you had all that to look forward to, why are you here?”

“I
joined for the waters.”

“Waters?”
Sable frowned, clearly puzzled. “What waters? Afghanistan is in the desert.”

“I
was misinformed,” Doreen said, using her best Humphrey Bogart deadpan.

“Oh,
my God.” Geri looked between Sable and Doreen, her brown eyes wide with
admiration. “Casablanca, right? I love that movie.”

“How
many times did we watch it during basic training?”

“Too
many.” Sable rolled her eyes.

“Perhaps
I was a bit obsessed,” Doreen conceded. “You were a good friend to sit through
it over and over again.”

“It’s
a good flick. Besides, now you owe me. When I collect, it will make it worth
all those,
here’s looking at you kids
.”

“Name
it and I’ll pay. But for now?” Doreen slung an arm over Sable’s shoulders, then
did the same to Geri. “Drinks. The first round is on me.”

THE MUSIC WAS loud and the alcohol flowed freely. Sable and her
friends made the most of their night off.

The
number of bodies at their table ebbed and flowed throughout the evening. At the
moment, six women laughed and yelled over the music. They danced when the mood
hit them, not waiting to find a partner. It wasn’t that kind of evening.

They
moved around the other bodies, letting the pounding beat, and a few drinks,
help them relax. Tonight was about forgetting their responsibilities back on
the base. They weren’t worried about their next deployment or keeping their
country safe. It was all about the booze and the pounding beat.

A
few of them, Geri included, looked to pick up a local hottie for an
unencumbered one-night stand. But most of them simply wanted to have fun. That
meant shots, laughs, and good company.