Once Her Man, Always Her Man (1 Night Stand Series) by Heather Long Page B
Authors: Heather Long
Tags: Always a Marine - Book 1
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soiree Delilah hosted for a handpicked guest list. The ideal silent partner, she maintained a tidy investment, even after Rebecca paid off the initial stake.
For five years, she did exactly as she pleased, planning birthday parties, welcome home parties, wakes, weddings, and everything in between. This year’s grand shindig for Delilah sent Becca to the Sybarite Club in Dallas, only a few miles from where she’d grown up.
If it had been anyone else, she would have said no. But Delilah insisted that no life outside of work would impact her career more than she could imagine, so she’d let her not-so-silent partner sign her up for the 1Night Stand dating service. Delilah chose the Sybarite Club for the meeting, she knew the guys who ran it and that guaranteed her a measure of security. Instead of a huge party on some far-flung island or cruise ship, she waited for the man of the hour.
Delilah’s text had been specific: The Sybarite Club, nine PM., wear a forest green dress. She’d even sent a silver bracelet for her to wear for luck and love. The simple band shackling her wrist was heavier than most of the pieces she favored, but its weight comforted and warmed her.
A mournful melody of horn, piano and guitar tugged her back from the past—a place she rarely ventured anymore. She’d give her partner’s crazy idea another half hour. The white wine, the intimate atmosphere and the jazz were certainly worth another half hour of her time.
Maybe the guy chickened out.
Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time.
A delicious scent of woodsy vanilla stroked across her senses, locking every muscle in her body. Tension knitted a chain of knots up her spine. Trembling, she set the wine glass down before spilling it. The scent teased her, conjuring memories of high school, football and love. Tears clogged her throat, and the colorful collection of liquors on the bar back rippled as the curtain shrouding her heart ripping away.
Luke ….
***
Eleven years earlier
“I don’t understand.” She sat on the edge of the picnic table. Instead of the movies, they’d planned a quiet Saturday night together. But he’d been late and just when she thought he wouldn’t show up, he’d arrived, agitated, out of sorts and distant. “What happened?”
“September 11th happened, Becca. We’re retaliating and I plan to help.” The sweet autumn of their graduating year had turned into a nightmare a few weeks before. She’d been with him when the first reports of the terrorist attacks came in. School dismissed early, but not early enough to stop the news of the flight numbers involved. His mother and sister had been on a flight out of Dulles that morning, returning home from touring colleges on the east coast.
He’d taken the news without a glimmer of emotion. Her heart ached for him. For weeks, he pressed through funerals, obligatory family visits and bore the brunt of the hushed pity that rippled through the halls of Lowell High wherever they went.
He quit the football team.
His grades slipped.
He stopped coming to school regularly.
But Rebecca hadn’t left him. She brought his homework, bullied him to eat, cleaned up after both he and his father. After 9/11, his retired Marine, Navy reservist father informed them over dinner that he’d been activated. She held Luke’s hand through his father’s speech.
“Dad’s leaving tomorrow. He reports to Camp Pendleton. I’m going with him.” His words struck her like a body blow.
They’re moving. A hell of a long way from Lowell High School and Rockwall, Texas.
“Luke….” She squeezed his hand. The chill icing her heart suffocated the unseasonably warm Christmas air. “Wait.”
He’d avoided direct eye contact since walking up to the picnic table and he’d been stiff when she’d hugged him. He looked at her then, and it wasn’t her Luke, but a stranger, cool and remote. “I’m not sorry. And I’m not going just because Dad got called up. I enlisted in the
For five years, she did exactly as she pleased, planning birthday parties, welcome home parties, wakes, weddings, and everything in between. This year’s grand shindig for Delilah sent Becca to the Sybarite Club in Dallas, only a few miles from where she’d grown up.
If it had been anyone else, she would have said no. But Delilah insisted that no life outside of work would impact her career more than she could imagine, so she’d let her not-so-silent partner sign her up for the 1Night Stand dating service. Delilah chose the Sybarite Club for the meeting, she knew the guys who ran it and that guaranteed her a measure of security. Instead of a huge party on some far-flung island or cruise ship, she waited for the man of the hour.
Delilah’s text had been specific: The Sybarite Club, nine PM., wear a forest green dress. She’d even sent a silver bracelet for her to wear for luck and love. The simple band shackling her wrist was heavier than most of the pieces she favored, but its weight comforted and warmed her.
A mournful melody of horn, piano and guitar tugged her back from the past—a place she rarely ventured anymore. She’d give her partner’s crazy idea another half hour. The white wine, the intimate atmosphere and the jazz were certainly worth another half hour of her time.
Maybe the guy chickened out.
Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time.
A delicious scent of woodsy vanilla stroked across her senses, locking every muscle in her body. Tension knitted a chain of knots up her spine. Trembling, she set the wine glass down before spilling it. The scent teased her, conjuring memories of high school, football and love. Tears clogged her throat, and the colorful collection of liquors on the bar back rippled as the curtain shrouding her heart ripping away.
Luke ….
***
Eleven years earlier
“I don’t understand.” She sat on the edge of the picnic table. Instead of the movies, they’d planned a quiet Saturday night together. But he’d been late and just when she thought he wouldn’t show up, he’d arrived, agitated, out of sorts and distant. “What happened?”
“September 11th happened, Becca. We’re retaliating and I plan to help.” The sweet autumn of their graduating year had turned into a nightmare a few weeks before. She’d been with him when the first reports of the terrorist attacks came in. School dismissed early, but not early enough to stop the news of the flight numbers involved. His mother and sister had been on a flight out of Dulles that morning, returning home from touring colleges on the east coast.
He’d taken the news without a glimmer of emotion. Her heart ached for him. For weeks, he pressed through funerals, obligatory family visits and bore the brunt of the hushed pity that rippled through the halls of Lowell High wherever they went.
He quit the football team.
His grades slipped.
He stopped coming to school regularly.
But Rebecca hadn’t left him. She brought his homework, bullied him to eat, cleaned up after both he and his father. After 9/11, his retired Marine, Navy reservist father informed them over dinner that he’d been activated. She held Luke’s hand through his father’s speech.
“Dad’s leaving tomorrow. He reports to Camp Pendleton. I’m going with him.” His words struck her like a body blow.
They’re moving. A hell of a long way from Lowell High School and Rockwall, Texas.
“Luke….” She squeezed his hand. The chill icing her heart suffocated the unseasonably warm Christmas air. “Wait.”
He’d avoided direct eye contact since walking up to the picnic table and he’d been stiff when she’d hugged him. He looked at her then, and it wasn’t her Luke, but a stranger, cool and remote. “I’m not sorry. And I’m not going just because Dad got called up. I enlisted in the
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