Bonnie Gardner - Sergeant Darling

Patsy stood with one hand resting on the top of the pink Cadillac, closed her eyes and sighed. One thousand dollars! Even though Aunt Myrtle could easily afford it, it was still a great deal of money. Much more than Patsy could afford to squander on a night out. But Aunt Myrtle would be there with them, so it wasn’t exactly like a blind date. She just hoped that Myrtle’s taste in men had improved since the slope-shouldered accountant she’d fixed her up with the last time.

“I give up.” Patsy couldn’t believe she was really going to do this. “I can’t let you have wasted all that money. I’ll go, but under duress,” she added emphatically. And I won’t enjoy it, she didn’t say out loud.

“Of course, dear,” Aunt Myrtle said knowingly as she started the engine. “Perhaps, you ought to get in,” she shouted over the engine noise.

Heaven help her! Patsy did.

RAY WONDERED WHY Miss Carter had selected such an out-of-the-way place as he drove his new Honda CRV east along Highway 98 through the darkening countryside of the Florida Panhandle. The stunted shrubby trees and the tall, gangly pines of this part of the country looked strange to him after growing up among the majestic firs of the Pacific Northwest. But the soil here was sandy and poor and couldn’t support the same sort of vegetation as his verdant and green home state of Washington.

What was so wrong with the niece that the aunt had to spend a thousand dollars for a date for her and keep her hidden from civilization? Miss Carter was strange enough. God help him if the acorn had fallen too close to the tree.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to look at the positive side of this. It would give him a chance to practice dating and not ruin his chances with someone who might actually matter. An image of Nurse Pritchard flashed through his mind. Now, that was a challenge worth taking. Sort of like scaling Mount Ranier.

He chuckled and shook the notion out of his head.

Finally, after miles of driving through nowhere, with only occasional glimpses of the Gulf of Mexico through the trees, he came upon civilization. At least, what passed for it around here. There was a cluster of condominiums and shops on one side of the road, and on the other was the regular complement of seaside villas, motels and restaurants. Finally, he spotted the Blue Heron and pulled into the crushed-oyster-shell parking lot. After parking, he checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. Satisfied, he stepped outside, then drew in a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself, striding toward the building.

Inside, he talked to the hostess and was shown to the Carter table. Miss Carter waved as she saw him coming and he waved back, but Ray was more interested in the niece—his date.

Her back was to him, but so far, the woman didn’t look too bad. She had long, wavy blond hair, worn down so that it cascaded over her shoulders, and she was wearing something in light blue. He could see that she’d caught her hair with a barrette on one side to keep it away from her face, but he still couldn’t see it.

Then the woman, alerted by her aunt’s cheerful waving, turned his way, and Ray froze in his tracks.

No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be possible for two women to look so much alike, and yet so different. Could this lovely vision in front of him really be…

Patsy turned around and almost choked on the wine she’d just sipped. No, it couldn’t be. She looked again. Dressed in charcoal-gray Dockers, a white turtleneck and a navy sport jacket to ward off the chill of a late March cold front, stood the last person she ever expected to see here. Sergeant Raymond Darling in attractive designer glasses—she didn’t know why she noticed them, but she did—dominated the space between their table and the next one, seeming to suck the very oxygen out of the air.

He, bless him, seemed as shocked to see her as she was to see him.

They looked at each other, unable to draw their gazes away, until Ray swallowed. Patsy watched, fascinated as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Sort of feels like being trapped in the headlights of a speeding train,” he finally said under his breath. He hadn’t really directed his comment to Patsy, but she understood that it was intended for her, and she doubted that Aunt Myrtle had heard him.

“Good evening, Miss Carter,” he said to Aunt Myrtle, then he nodded toward Patsy, and she forced a tentative smile, welcoming smile.

“Good evening, Raymond. I’ve always appreciated promptness in a man,” Myrtle Carter returned. She offered him a bejeweled hand, and Ray wasn’t sure whether to kiss it or shake it. He opted for the latter.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ray said, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the fourth chair. “I strive to be on time. The air force pretty well requires it,” he added. On the way over he had told himself that the sooner he got there, the sooner this fiasco would be over and done with. Now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted the evening to end quickly. The aromas emanating from the restaurant’s kitchen were delectable, and Patsy Pritchard wasn’t bad to look at, even if she seemed to be wound as tight as a spring.

“Patsy, you must meet my guest,” Myrtle Carter said in a tone that reminded Radar of a queen—maybe the silly ruffled collar had something to do with it. “Patsy, this is my new young friend, Sergeant Raymond Darling.”

She looked up at him and forced a smile. This was so awkward. She’d seen this man in his skivvies; his well-honed physique had been bared to her, the memory of which made if difficult for Patsy to breathe, much less speak. And he looked military through and through tonight, even dressed casually. That turtleneck stretched tight over a chest that was at least a yard across….

Then he looked down at her and grinned, and Patsy couldn’t help grinning back.

Oh Lord, if she hadn’t been sitting down, that smile might have melted the hinges in her knees. “Sergeant Darling,” she murmured, hoping that her agitation wasn’t evident in her voice.

“Please, call me Ray,” he said and offered his hand.

Patsy accepted it. “Ray,” she said, a slight catch in her voice. Now she’d be given away for sure. Her heart was beating like a tom tom, and she was certain that Sergeant Darling would be able to feel her pulse racing when they shook hands. Or maybe he wouldn’t. His grip was so tight that Patsy was sure she wouldn’t be able to move her fingers for at least an hour once he let it go.

Patsy jerked her hand away and shook it to get the circulation going again. “At work they call me Pat.”

“Sorry,” Ray said. “It’s easy to forget one’s own strength.”

“I may not be able to move my hand for days,” Patsy said, flexing her fingers.

“Silly,” Aunt Myrtle said. “No harm done. Your fingers are working just fine.” She turned to Ray and patted the empty chair between Patsy and herself. “Please, sit down. We’ve been waiting to order.”

Ray sat, then picked up his menu and perused it. “What’s good here?” he asked, looking over the top of the menu. Just seeing his raised eyebrows set Patsy’s heart fluttering.

“Anything and everything,” Patsy answered, still slightly breathless. The reason she knew about the menu was that Aunt Myrt often brought her here.

“Then I think I’ll try the amberjack,” Ray said, closing the menu.

Like the grande dame of the manor, Myrtle signaled for the waiter who scurried right over and took their orders. Then they settled back to wait.

“Why don’t the two of you get acquainted while I go powder my nose?” Aunt Myrtle suggested.

That was the last thing she needed, Patsy thought. To be left alone with superhero-in-disguise Sergeant Darling. Even in the middle of this crowded restaurant.