Stranded With The Sergeant

She was narrowing her chocolate-brown eyes at him, as if she were able to read his thoughts and wanted to challenge him on their accuracy. Great. He loved a challenge. Especially one that involved a good-looking woman.

“I take it you consider yourself to be an expert in the battle between the sexes,” she said.

“My motto is make love, not war.”

“I’m sure that didn’t come out of the U.S. Marine Procedural Manual.”

“If you’ve been dating guys who base their romantic approach on the Marine Procedural Manual, then I can understand your dissatisfaction,” he murmured. “And I’d love to have the chance to show you how a real Marine woos a woman.” He leaned closer as if tempting her to kiss him, before leaning away to smile at the startled awareness in her eyes. “After I take care of my duty and give the Sergeant Major’s kid her tour. Which one is she? The one with the pigtails and strange socks?”

“No.”

He scanned the roomful of kids, trying to look for some kind of familial resemblance. “Then she must be the one with the short haircut and glasses.”

“Wrong again,” she said coolly.

“Are we going to play twenty questions all day or are you going to tell me which kid is the Sergeant Major’s?”

“A few minutes ago you told me you had plenty of time.”

“A few minutes ago I did have time until…”

“You wasted it flirting with me?” she countered mockingly.

“Look, cut me some slack here, would you?” he said in exasperation. “I’m having a bad day. Just tell me which kid is the Sergeant Major’s so I can figure out where to go from here with this tour stuff. I’m only following…”

“Orders,” she completed the sentence for him. “Yes, I heard you the first time you said that.”

“So what’s the problem?” Joe demanded.

“The problem is that none of these children are Sergeant Major Martin’s.”

Joe frowned. “But that’s not possible. He told me his daughter’s class was here for a tour.”

“His daughter’s class is here for a tour.”

Joe had a bad feeling. “You mean…?”

“That I’m Sergeant Major Martin’s daughter?” the sexy teacher said with a smug smile that didn’t bode well for him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Chapter Two

Prudence Martin watched chagrin flash across Joe Wilder’s handsome face. She’d never seen eyes so Mel Gibson blue. In fact, this Marine favored Mel in several ways—same color brown hair, same square jaw, same humorous glint in his so-blue eyes. Although she could have sworn that she’d seen a glimpse of panic when he’d first entered the room, now she thought she must have imagined it.

He had the same erect military posture of most Marines, but Joe Wilder had something else. A presence. The kids noticed it. They’d quieted noticeably since his arrival.

The khaki service uniform he wore, with its crisp shirt and matching tie and web belt with darker trousers, wasn’t the best color in the world on most men, but she doubted anything looked bad on this man.

And she was stuck spending the weekend with him. Some women might dream of spending time with a sexy man in uniform. Not her.

“Sorry for the confusion, ma’am,” Joe was saying, his voice as smooth as the rest of him. “When your father referred to you as his little princess, I naturally thought…”

“The wrong thing,” she interrupted him to say. She hated her father’s nickname for her. Little Princess. Just hearing it set her teeth on edge.

“I see that now.” The earlier once-over visual he’d given her was back, only much more restrained now that he knew she was his commanding officer’s daughter. Prudence was used to that information making a difference with men—with Marines in particular. Which was one of the major reasons she avoided contact with them.

She’d agreed to have Sergeant Brown accompany her on this field trip because she’d known the man since she was a kid. He was as old as her father and a personal friend.

The same was not true of Joe Wilder.

She’d have to tell her father he wouldn’t do for this assignment. He’d have to find her someone else. Until then, they might as well begin the tour of the base. There was no reason Joe couldn’t do that. She’d then speak to her father about a replacement for the remainder of the weekend.

“Okay, class, listen up now. Sergeant Wilder is here to begin our tour of the base. He’s going to give you some background information about the history of the base and then begin the actual tour. Go ahead, Sergeant Wilder.”

She was a bit surprised by the deer-in-the-headlights look Joe gave the gathered group of twenty-five kids. Maybe speaking in front of a group wasn’t his thing? But then a Marine never showed any fear. And Joe was no different. His voice was strong, his demeanor confident as he began speaking.

“Listen up, everyone. You may address me as either Sergeant Wilder or sir. I’d like to welcome you all today to Camp Lejeune, a United States Marine Corps base, where we train the Marine Air/Ground Task Forces defending our country. Okay, let’s start the tour.” He seemed in a big hurry to get out of the small conference room all of a sudden.

“First tell the class a bit more about the base’s history,” Prudence suggested.

“Well,” he drawled, “the base has been here a long time, ma’am.”

“How long?” she pressed, enjoying putting him on the spot. There was something about the confidently sexy smile he’d flashed at her when he’d first walked into the room that had irked her. Equally irritating was her own response, the quickening of her heartbeat, the awareness of his vivid blue eyes and good looks.

And then there was that moment when he’d leaned close as if to kiss her. She hadn’t been expecting that. She’d gotten used to men keeping their distance.

Turning to the class, Joe said, “Anyone know how long the base has been here?”

Two hands shot up. Since Joe had asked the question, she let him select which student would answer. He picked Pete Greene, a whiz with facts and figures. “Since World War Two, uh, 1941 to be exact, sir.”

“Okay, let’s start the tour,” Joe said again.

Prudence held out a hand, stopping the mass exodus. “I think the class would like to know where the base got its name.”

“Why did they name it after a legume?” Rosa Santos asked. “Aren’t peanuts legumes?”

“It’s Lejeune, dummy,” Pete replied on Joe’s behalf. “And it’s huge, over 153,000 acres.”

Sinatra Washington raised his hand, his silver-rimmed glasses glinting against his dark mocha complexion. “Sergeant Wilder, tell them about the fifty-four live-fire ranges, eighty-nine maneuver areas, thirty-three gun positions and twenty-five tactical landing zones.”

“Maybe you should lead this tour,” Joe replied. “Where did you get all that information?”

“From the Internet, sir.” Sinatra, one of her most curious students and an avid fan of the Internet, held up the sheet of paper he’d printed from his computer.

Not wanting to be left behind in any statistical discussion, Pete said, “I read about that, too. You both failed to mention the state-of-the-art Military Operations in Urban Terrain training facility.”

“I’m telling you, these kids don’t need me here at all.” Joe’s voice may have been filled with humorous teasing, but she suspected there was an underlying element of fact there. He didn’t want to be here. He wasn’t comfortable around the kids. Oh, he tried not to show it, but there was a definite tenseness in his stance.

“Camp Lejeune has a self-guided tour with twenty-five points of interest,” Sinatra stated.