Last Virgin In California. Maureen Child

in charge at the moment.

      Moonlight barely reached into this one little darkened corner of the base. But even in the dim light, he had no trouble making out her delicate features, the paleness of her skin or that wild tangle of hair lying about her face and well past her shoulders. He caught a whiff of her perfume and it tantalized him, making something inside him clutch up tight and hard. And he damn well resented it.

      What was it about this one tiny woman that seemed to be getting past every defense he’d erected over the last couple of years?

      “How’d you know I was here?” she asked, keeping her voice low enough that no one else would hear her. Especially over Staff Sergeant Michaels’s shouting.

      How to explain that, he wondered. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d sensed her presence. He would cheerfully stand up against a wall and smile at a firing squad before confessing that he’d actually been looking for her. So he picked up her left wrist and gave it a gentle shake.

      Silvery music tinkled into the darkness from the chimes she habitually wore.

      “Ah,” Lilah said. “I knew I should have dressed a little more covertly.”

      “A little more?” he asked, letting his gaze drift down her compact, curvy body. Even in the dark, he could see that she wasn’t exactly dressed for espionage. She wore some light-colored full-length sweater over yet another swirly skirt and a pale blouse. She couldn’t be more noticeable if she were doused in glow-in-the-dark paint.

      “So I’m not spy material,” she quipped. “Besides, I don’t look good in black.”

      He was pretty sure she’d look good in whatever she wore, but he had no intention of saying so.

      “C’mon,” he said, still keeping a grip on her wrist. “I’ll take you home.”

      She dug in her heels. “I could just stay here and—”

      “Forget it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to where the new recruits were being hustled in out of the damp fog and into the receiving center. “Show’s over.”

      She looked past him, then lifted her gaze to his. “Okay, I’ll go. But you don’t have to walk me. Sergeant Michaels is probably expecting you inside.”

      True, he thought, looking from the tiny woman beside him to the well-lit glass doors to his left. But there were more Marines inside who could help out. And he didn’t think the Colonel would appreciate his daughter left to walk across the base alone in the middle of the night.

      Decision made, he said, “Wait here.” Then he dropped her hand and marched off to receiving. It only took a moment or two to tell Michaels that he was taking off and then he was stepping back into the damp night, peering into the mists of fog drifting across the yard.

      He glanced at the spot where he’d left her with orders to stay put. Naturally, she wasn’t there. Knowing her, she could be anywhere on base by now. “Dammit,” he muttered.

      She laughed from somewhere just ahead of him. “Have you ever tried meditation?”

      “No,” he said, narrowing his gaze to stare into the fog, looking for her.

      “You should. It would help with that temper.”

      “You know what else would help?” he asked as he moved forward quietly, scanning the area, searching for a glimpse of that pale sweater.

      “What’s that?”

      “People doing what I tell ’em to do.”

      “Like giving orders, do you?”

      “Better than you like taking them, apparently.”

      Then she was there. Right in front of him. Materializing out of the fog as though she were a part of it somehow. Mist clung to her hair and body and shone in damp patches on her cheeks. She tilted her head back, smiled up at him and he felt a cold, hard fist close around his heart.

      “You should keep that in mind then, huh?”

      Oh, there were a lot of things he’d have to keep in mind about her, Kevin told himself firmly. Not least of which was the fact that she was the engaged daughter of the Colonel and only here temporarily.

      “Doesn’t it look eerie out here?” she whispered and her voice was softened even further by the heavy mist surrounding them.

      “Yeah,” he said. “It does.”

      “Sort of like a horror movie.”

      He’d never really noticed that before, but got into the spirit of things. “Just before something comes lurching out of the fog?”

      She took a step closer to him and let her gaze sweep across the shrouded base. “Okay, bad idea to go down that road.”

      “Scaring yourself?” he asked, surprised. Hell, he would have been willing to bet that nothing scared her. Certainly not her father. Or him. But apparently, the boogeyman could do it.

      She linked her arm through his as he started walking. He knew this base like his own backyard. Foggy or not, he could get her back home with no trouble.

      “Not a big fan of scary movies,” she admitted. “I get too involved, too drawn into the plot, then it’s like I’m the one being chased by a knife-wielding maniac.” She shivered. “Nope. Give me romantic comedies.”

      The fog acted like a blanket, keeping them wrapped in a small cocoon of silence. Only their own footsteps sounded out, like twin heartbeats, thumping in time. The grip of her hand on his arm was strong and warm and damned if Kevin wasn’t enjoying it. It had been too long since he’d taken a walk with a woman. And even though this was strictly business, so to speak, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.

      “Me,” he mused aloud, “I’m more of an action-adventure movie person.”

      “Gee,” she said with a half laugh, “there’s a surprise.”

      He chuckled, too. “Nothing better than a few good explosions and a couple of firefights.”

      “Ah, the romance.”

      “Ah, the glory.”

      They walked on in a companionable silence for another minute or two and then she spoke. Kevin had been wondering just how long she could go without talking. Clearly, not very long.

      “So what do you do when you’re not being Gunnery Sergeant Rogan?”

      “When am I not?” he wondered aloud.

      “Vacations,” she supplied, “days off. R and R.”

      It had been so long since he’d taken any personal time, he couldn’t remember what he’d done. Of course, before the divorce, he’d had plenty of plans for vacations and even retirement. Maybe buy a boat and run a charter fishing service off one of the islands in the Caribbean.

      But then, his neat little world had dissolved and so had the plans.

      Her question was still hanging in the damp air between them though, so he found an answer that would satisfy her curiosity. “I go see my sister and brothers. And my new niece.”

      Lilah heard the pride in his voice and smiled wistfully to herself. As an only child, she would never get to be Aunty Lilah. And at the rate she was going, she’d never get to be “mom” either. Suddenly, she saw herself thirty years from now, curled up in her same apartment in San Francisco, surrounded by cats and peering through the curtains at the world going on without her.

      Not a pleasant prospect, by any means.

      “You know,” he said, “when you’re quiet, it’s a little scary.”

      She chuckled. “A Marine? Scared? I don’t believe it.”

      “Worried more than scared. What are you thinking about?”

      Since the image of