gotten to know her, the real woman, not just Summer the public persona. He wanted to know her real name.
His eyes opened wide as an idea came to him. Summer had sent Jazzy a get-well gift. She’d had it shipped directly from the store. Shouldn’t there be a packing slip in it with her real name on it? With Jazzy being laid up, John had offered to take the cardboard shipping box and throw it out for him. It was probably still right where he’d left it, leaning next to the garbage bin in the MWR. John scrambled to pull his uniform pants over the boxer briefs he wore.
Ignoring the glances of those inside, he skidded into the room and headed directly for the trash, and there it was, the box he’d hoped to find. He didn’t take the time to look for the paperwork then. He just grabbed the box and ran for the privacy of his own room.
There, behind the closed door, John pushed open the sides of the box. He saw a white form below the clear plastic which had wrapped the DVDs of Jazzy’s favorite television series. With hands that shook, John opened the paper, and there in the top left corner was the name Maureen Mullen.
He smiled. Maureen . That sounded more like the person he had gotten to know. Somehow this amazing female managed to be both the warm, kind-hearted Maureen as well as the sexy and sultry Summer.
John had to reconcile himself that those two personas were actually contained within one incredible woman, an opinion he’d formed without ever meeting or even seeing a picture of her.
This online romance stuff was tough.
Romance ? Shit. Had he really just thought that word? And was that what this thing with Summer—Maureen—had become? A romance?
All of John’s obsessive thinking did nothing but raise more questions and supply no answers. One thing was clear—both Summer and Maureen occupied his thoughts more often than was healthy. Day and night, during missions, at chow, during his workouts at the camp gym, in bed…
He rose from the mattress and headed again for the place where he spent increasing amounts of time, the MWR.
At this ungodly late hour there was no line. John picked one of the two available machines and logged in.
Smiling, he found an email waiting for him from Maureen—he was beginning to think of her as that already. It wasn’t much, just a hello and wishing him a good day, but simply finding it made him feel as good as if he had just won a million bucks.
He would have to watch it or the guys would know something was up. John realized he was smiling way more than usual, and Jazzy for one would definitely notice. They were a close group of men, but when it came to his love life, John was a very private person.
His love life…damn. He hadn’t had one of those in a long time. To his amazement, he wasn’t that upset he was thinking about having one now. But did she feel the same? He had to find out somehow.
Hitting Reply , he decided enough was enough. He wanted some answers before he got any more involved with this woman. Maybe his determination was caused by sleep deprivation. Or perhaps what had happened to Jazzy reinforced what John already knew—every moment could be his last.
John took a deep breath and plunged in headfirst.
Dear Summer,
I have a confession to make. I have read your book and I enjoyed it immensely. I think about your heroine—so smart and sexy—and wonder if you modeled her after yourself.
Since we have been corresponding, I think about you too and wonder. Things like, what do you look like, what does your voice sound like?
While I am confessing, I will also tell you that I looked at the packing slip in the box you sent Jazzy and found the name Maureen. Does anyone call you by your real name? If so, would you mind if I did?
Anyway, it is very late here. I look forward to talking with you tomorrow.
Yours,
John
He hit the Send button and sat back from the shock that he had basically just confessed to this woman who should be a veritable stranger but
His eyes opened wide as an idea came to him. Summer had sent Jazzy a get-well gift. She’d had it shipped directly from the store. Shouldn’t there be a packing slip in it with her real name on it? With Jazzy being laid up, John had offered to take the cardboard shipping box and throw it out for him. It was probably still right where he’d left it, leaning next to the garbage bin in the MWR. John scrambled to pull his uniform pants over the boxer briefs he wore.
Ignoring the glances of those inside, he skidded into the room and headed directly for the trash, and there it was, the box he’d hoped to find. He didn’t take the time to look for the paperwork then. He just grabbed the box and ran for the privacy of his own room.
There, behind the closed door, John pushed open the sides of the box. He saw a white form below the clear plastic which had wrapped the DVDs of Jazzy’s favorite television series. With hands that shook, John opened the paper, and there in the top left corner was the name Maureen Mullen.
He smiled. Maureen . That sounded more like the person he had gotten to know. Somehow this amazing female managed to be both the warm, kind-hearted Maureen as well as the sexy and sultry Summer.
John had to reconcile himself that those two personas were actually contained within one incredible woman, an opinion he’d formed without ever meeting or even seeing a picture of her.
This online romance stuff was tough.
Romance ? Shit. Had he really just thought that word? And was that what this thing with Summer—Maureen—had become? A romance?
All of John’s obsessive thinking did nothing but raise more questions and supply no answers. One thing was clear—both Summer and Maureen occupied his thoughts more often than was healthy. Day and night, during missions, at chow, during his workouts at the camp gym, in bed…
He rose from the mattress and headed again for the place where he spent increasing amounts of time, the MWR.
At this ungodly late hour there was no line. John picked one of the two available machines and logged in.
Smiling, he found an email waiting for him from Maureen—he was beginning to think of her as that already. It wasn’t much, just a hello and wishing him a good day, but simply finding it made him feel as good as if he had just won a million bucks.
He would have to watch it or the guys would know something was up. John realized he was smiling way more than usual, and Jazzy for one would definitely notice. They were a close group of men, but when it came to his love life, John was a very private person.
His love life…damn. He hadn’t had one of those in a long time. To his amazement, he wasn’t that upset he was thinking about having one now. But did she feel the same? He had to find out somehow.
Hitting Reply , he decided enough was enough. He wanted some answers before he got any more involved with this woman. Maybe his determination was caused by sleep deprivation. Or perhaps what had happened to Jazzy reinforced what John already knew—every moment could be his last.
John took a deep breath and plunged in headfirst.
Dear Summer,
I have a confession to make. I have read your book and I enjoyed it immensely. I think about your heroine—so smart and sexy—and wonder if you modeled her after yourself.
Since we have been corresponding, I think about you too and wonder. Things like, what do you look like, what does your voice sound like?
While I am confessing, I will also tell you that I looked at the packing slip in the box you sent Jazzy and found the name Maureen. Does anyone call you by your real name? If so, would you mind if I did?
Anyway, it is very late here. I look forward to talking with you tomorrow.
Yours,
John
He hit the Send button and sat back from the shock that he had basically just confessed to this woman who should be a veritable stranger but
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