Andy vs the Colonel by Gwynn Morgan ISBN 1-58749-305-5
www.gwynnmorgan.com or available at Amazon.com, Fictionwise.com etc.
Blurb: For Andrea "Andy" Holls, military correctness is the way to go–until her principles and perspectives are put to test with the arrival of a new Brigade Commander, Colonel Cory Costain, who is far too attractive for Andy's peace of mind!
An easy going extrovert who prefers to treat his subordinates as freinds, Cory is determined to get his stff and starchy executive officer to unbend and be all the woman he knows she can be.
All is fair in love and war and it's a hard-fought struggle until Andy finds you sometimes have to lose to win.
Exvcerpt:
"I'll expect you in the morning, Costain," he said. "In the Ambassador Suite on the top floor around 0900. Meanwhile, take care of young Captain Holly here. She's a treasure."
He bowed to Andy in a courtly fashion. When she moved to salute, he grasped her wrist and then stooped to drop a kiss on the back of her hand. Then he turned to start away, leaving them shocked and speechless. Tall as he was, the general was lost in the crowd before either of them recovered.
"I've got my orders," Cory said, "as you heard. Shall we go have dinner?"
Andy stared at him. Her face looked pale in the lounge's dim light, her eyes wide and overflowing with confusion and wariness. He took her arm and led her back out into the hall, where they paused.
"I didn't know you were here, were coming out this time." Andy blurted the words, uncensored.
"It was a sudden decision. Actually the General made it for me. I didn't realize you were here, either."
"Jan finally talked me into taking her place."
"As Fred was trying to convince me when Corcoran's call came in." Cory shook his head. "It almost feels like a conspiracy but I'm not that paranoid, are you?"
Andy swept a quick, startled glance his way. "No. I mean why would anyone want to get both of us here? We're not — I'm not — ."
"That obvious?" He watched her as the import of his words sank in. She paled and then blushed.
"Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to be obvious about." Her vehemence was too quick, too strong.
Methinks she doth protest too much. Shakespeare? Where in hell did that come from? Cory took her arm again. "Let's go eat, anyway. You weren't planning to join someone, were you?"
"No sir, but you're under no obligation to me. I don't care what The General said. It wasn't exactly an order."
Andy looked up as she spoke, her eyes meeting and clashing with his bright blue gaze. She wanted to run as far and fast as she could to escape the warm regard shining in his eyes. He smiled, that warm, easy smile that turned her insides to Jell-O.
"Can't we drop the sir for now and just be Andy and Cory? We're in civvies and we're supposed to be here to relax, have fun, leave the war and all its pressures behind."
"I — er — are you sure? Do you really think…?" Her tongue was in knots, reflecting the tangled nature of her thoughts and feelings. This was terrible!
"I sure do. I most certainly do! Come on. I'd like to be the lucky guy who has you for a dinner companion tonight. Please?"
The 'please' undid her. He looked so young, both brash and bashful, command presence and authority left behind along with the uniform. Something in his eyes hinted he was teasing her, but she suddenly found she could not refuse. When he extended an arm, she slipped hers through it. She rested her hand on his bare forearm, warm and hard beneath her fingertips.
He reached across and covered her hand with his for a moment. "I'm really glad you're here. I was feeling like a lost soul, wandering around alone, looking for a familiar face, and beginning to think I'd just hitch the earliest ride I could find back to Del Campo. Then you appeared, just like magic. You look gorgeous in that dress, by the way."
"I just bought it today. It's too small, I'm afraid, but I didn't bring anything dressy at all. All I have with me here are BDUs and grubbies. I didn't expect to be doing any partying. Is it too obviously skimpy?" She smoothed her free hand restlessly down the bodice, realizing only after she felt his glance follow her hand just how sensual the gesture appeared.
"I'm no fashion expert, but it looks terrific to me. I didn't recognize you for a minute there. Corcoran is known for…well, an eye for the ladies. I just thought he'd found someone…I mean…well, it's not that you don't always look good, but not the same kind of good."
Andy jerked to a stop, startled. Cory was actually blushing and definitely floundering for words. It was so unexpected she had to struggle not to giggle. He stopped with her, looking first at her face and then down at her hand on his arm.
He chuckled awkwardly. "Oh hell, can I take all that back and start over?"
She shook her head, giving in to a need to grin. "Nope, I won't let you off that easy, but I'll accept the compliment I think you intended and let it go at that."
"Whew!" He pantomimed mopping his brow and then grinned back. "Thanks! It's been so long since I tried to socialize outside of dining ins and unit picnics that I've pretty near forgotten what to do."
They turned toward the dining room then, Andy still resting her hand lightly on his arm. She tried to pretend that simple and seemingly casual touch was not sending electrical shocks clear up her arm to disrupt her heart beat and muddle her thinking.
They crossed into a corner of the long room, lit with dozens of chandeliers, to a vacant table for two. He pulled out a magnificent carved chair for her and then sat down himself, a yard of pristine linen away.
Afterwards, Andy had no recollection of the meal. She was sure it had been elegant and delicious, but her senses were awash, filled to the brink and overflowing with Cory– the deceptively lazy drawl of his low voice, the spicy-clean scent of his after shave, the way the sparkling lights made coppery highlights in his hair. The brightness of his eyes, aglow now with appreciation and desire, almost rivaled the gleaming chandeliers.
That glow had been there all along, she realized suddenly, but veiled, banked and denied. Heretofore, she had been so busy trying to suppress her attraction to him that she had not seen it. Either that or its presence frightened her so badly she'd refused to acknowledge it, even to herself. But tonight, the stranger she had glimpsed in the mirror was not so timid, insecure, or resistant. The girl in the sexy white dress accepted it as her due and let her own emotions respond.
The meal finally ended. They sipped delicious fruity flavored drinks and wandered down the corridor, following the sound of music to another vast room where a small orchestra played music made for dancing. Claiming a little marble topped table along one wall, they left their drinks there.
Cory did not ask; he simply held out his arms and Andy moved into them. They danced several sets, returning in between them to the table, where full glasses always awaited, until finally they had danced everything from waltzes to the lambada. When they were unsure of the steps, they simply improvised, taking from each other the subtle cues of movement so there was never a hesitation or misstep. They might as well have been partnered forever.
Finally, they moved down the room and out onto a terrace which seemed to float above the water. Their feet slowed and then stopped until they were just standing and swaying together. Cory's hands slid down to Andy's waist and below, just above the swell of her hips, bringing her close and still closer. The white skirt flattened against his hard-muscled thighs and her breasts against the warm wall of his chest until she could feel the throb of his heartbeat as clearly as her own.
She raised her head to look at him, clinging to his shoulders for the stability she suddenly lacked.
"Andrea…" Through a haze of sensations the half-whispered word came, strange and exotic until she remembered it was the other girl's name — and for tonight, hers.
"Not Andy, but Andrea?"
Even in the near-darkness she could see his eyes, feel their brightness and heat. They drew her like a magnet. She tiptoed, reaching up as he bent forward. Their lips met and fused in an open-mouthed kiss full of hunger and heat and need.
She pressed into his body, as close as she could possibly be save for the few layers of clothing. They fit together like two parts of a whole and she found no surprise in that. She had known, from the very first day.
His hands swept up, cupping her bare shoulders and then slid on to clasp, one on either side of her head. His mouth left hers and brushed across her eyes, her nose, slowly exploring the whole of her face and slipping down her neck to the hollow of her shoulder.
"Andy, Andrea — I want you so bad I can taste it," he said, hoarsely, against her lips. "Maybe I'm wrong, but somehow I think the same need is drawing you."
She nodded, wordless, the taste and pressure of his mouth stealing her voice.
"Let's go upstairs."
Again, she nodded. When they turned together, he kept his arm around her, holding her snugly to his side.
They found a door back into the corridor, bypassing the ballroom, and then went onto the elevator. In the privacy of the little dimly lit cubicle, Andy leaned limply against him, too deep in the lassitude of desire to move.
His room was across the hall and four doors down from hers, nearer the elevator. As they approached the door, he pulled the key card out of his pocket, never loosening his hold on her. He opened the door, a hand at her back to guide her in ahead of him, finally releasing her.
The room looked out over the ocean instead of the village, as Andy's did. It even had a little balcony, beyond an open French door.
Andy walked slowly across the thick plush carpet and out onto the tiled floor of the balcony. She swayed, suddenly dizzy and disoriented, all the euphoric assurance draining away to leave her scared and empty.
She clutched the cold iron of the railing and looked down at the water, foaming as the waves broke on the rocks far below. For a moment, she was not sure who or where she was, caught somewhere between Andy and Andrea, between the austere tents of Del Campo and the opulence of Jolla Azul.
Cory came quietly up behind her and settled his hands gently over her shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Everything happening too fast?"
"Yes — no — I don't know." She sucked in a deep breath, one that wanted to turn into a sob. "It's just the dress, isn't it? Not really me. This dress makes me somebody else…" She knew she was not making sense, but it was taking too much effort just to resist the urge to cry. She could not hold back her flooding tears and think and talk, too.
"I don't want a dress, Andy. The first time I ever saw you, you were wearing greens, prim and proper, stiff as you please, but I had to fight to keep myself from walking right up and kissing you. You can't blame that on a dress."
"Well, maybe the name, then. That's what turned Jody on. I didn't find out quick enough, but it sure wasn't me."
Whoever 'Jody' was, Cory had a sudden urge to wring his neck. Her hurt was clearly still bitter and deep. But he was lost, trying to figure out what she was talking about, still half drugged by her scent, the feel and taste of her. "Huh? I don't — what do you mean?"
"The name, Hollis — as in Howard M., BG, USAF retired."
"Not Howlin' Howard?" The question burst out before he could censor it. "No! It can't…you can't…"
"Oh yes I am. His daughter, his black sheep, disowned, wretched mess of a daughter. Damn it, will I never ever be free of him?"
"I never — Andy, please, believe me. Until this very minute I never once made the connection. Hell, there must be thousands of Hollises in the world. Anyway, I don't hold it against you. I never really knew him, except by reputation, so I can't. He's not you. I mean, my dad raised sheep, after all."
"I guess an Air Force general couldn't do too much for an Army career, but you never know. Sheep? Oh, good grief." Her laugh held an edge of hysteria. She twisted sharply to shake off his hands and clutched frantically at the rail as if the rash movement made everything spin and whirl.
In a moment of sudden clarity, Cory realized all that delicious fruity punch she had drunk so thirstily had been alcoholic. She was thoroughly intoxicated and getting more so by the moment. She reeled against the rail for a fearful minute until he caught her fiercely and drew her away.
"Come on, it's not so bad you have to throw yourself off the balcony, kid," he joked clumsily. She let him lead her inside, back into the luxurious room. She was crying now, no longer able to resist, only partly aware of where she was.
He sat down on a plush love seat and drew her down beside him. She stiffened for a moment, gulping between harsh hiccuping sobs.
"It won't work. It never does. I can't do it, can't do any of it right. I can't be a woman or a soldier or — or anything."
He put an arm around her shoulders, patting gently on her arm, the sort of soothing touch one might give a frightened horse.
"It's all right. Calm down. Nothing's wrong. We won't do anything you don't want to, hon. Sometimes life's a rough tour, and sometimes it helps to lean on, to talk to a friend."
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