Captain's Call of Duty

Her response was muffled by the sofa cushions, but given the irritation in her voice, he was glad he couldn’t make out the words.

“I’m heading home, Mendez. Give me a call in the morning if you come up with anything new overnight.”

Something unrepeatable floated out of the sofa pillow. Laughing quietly, he walked out the door.

Alex stared at the closed door and all but burst into tears. When was she going to stop turning into a complete klutz every time he touched her or walked into the room with her?

A black-tie dinner dance, huh? With Jim Kelley? She was so hosed. The only dress she owned was the one she’d worn to her uncle’s funeral a few years ago, and it had managed to be out of style even then.

Desperate, she picked up her phone and made a panicked call. “Carla, you’ve got to save my life.”

She’d gone to high school with Carla Grant back in Maple Cove and the young woman had come to town recently to work in the new Washington, D.C., office of Walsh Enterprises, an oil and gas exploration company headquartered back in Montana.

“What’s up, Alex?” Carla laughed. “Did you get lost in a department store and accidentally wander into the women’s clothing section? Remember, you get your clothes in men’s wear.”

“Very funny. That’s my problem. I’ve got to get a dress. A long one. For a fancy dance. I have to do makeup and everything. And, ohmigosh, my hair. I can’t wear a ponytail to this thing.”

“Whoa! You have a date? With a living, breathing man? Spill, girlfriend.”

Alex scowled. “I’ve been invited to a fundraiser for the senator I work for.”

“By whom? Not one of those gay Congressional staffers using you to convince people they’re straight?” Carla demanded.

“No. Jim Kelley.”

Silence came from the other end of the line. Had she given Carla a no-kidding heart attack? “Did I kill you?” Alex asked anxiously as the silence stretched out.

An ear-splitting scream erupted in her ear, making Alex yank the phone away from her head. From arm’s length, she still heard Carla squeal, “Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell. He’s going to a fundraiser and had to bring a guest. I guess he’s between blonde confections right now and had to grab the first available female on short notice. Or maybe the last available female,” she added a little sourly.

“When’s this big event of yours?” Carla demanded, getting down to the serious business of date preparation.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh my God. Call in sick tomorrow. I’ll do the same. This is going to take us all day.”

“How long does it take to shop for one lousy dress, anyway?” Alex asked in alarm.

“It’s not just a dress. There are the shoes and lingerie and makeup and hair, the mani-pedi—”

Alex made a sound of distress.

“—don’t you worry. Leave it all to me.”

Like Alex had any choice. She was completely clueless about all this girl stuff. Her mother had taken off when she was an infant and she’d only had her dad and a ranch full of cowboys to raise her. Which had been bad enough. But when Arturo had died, everything had changed.

It wasn’t as if she’d had any choice but to try to step into her dead brother’s shoes. Her father was so distraught she’d been terrified she’d lose him, too. If becoming her older brother in every way she could manage saved her dad, she’d been willing to do it. Even if it had cost her dresses and dating and growing gracefully into a young woman.

She’d even gone into the army, like Arturo was supposed to do. And the army wasn’t exactly a bastion of instruction in the feminine arts. She’d gotten her college degree mostly online while she bounced around from army post to army post, secretly trying to catch up with Jim Kelley.

Even the assignment to Chandler’s office hadn’t helped much. The man had only a few female staffers, and rumor had it they were on staff only because of old charges of sexism against Chet. The women in Chandler’s office were so busy proving they were as good as the boys that they didn’t wallow in things feminine much, either.

“I’ll be there at 10:00 a.m. sharp,” Carla announced, breaking Alex’s gloomy train of thought. “That’s when the malls open.”

“Right. Ten o’clock.” She gave Carla quick instructions to the love nest and then added, “Thanks, Carla.”

“Hey. What are friends for?”

Chapter 4

After three solid hours of shopping with Carla, Alex was beginning to have deep reservations about her friend. The woman was a slave driver. Who knew this business of girly primping was so darned much work?

At least she had a moment to catch her breath while two nice ladies administered her first ever mani-pedi. So this was what it was like to be a girl, huh? She had to admit it was nice. But she would never tell that to Carla, of course. Although, how she was going to type with French-tipped fingernails was anybody’s guess.

Carla pulled out an actual checklist and glanced through it again. “Hair’s in twenty minutes. You can eat while your highlights go in. I can’t believe you only gave me one day to work a miracle, Alex. What were you thinking?”

Alex winced. “He asked me last night. I didn’t get any more warning than you.”

“Well, at least the dress is a knock-out. Jim Kelley’s not going to know what hit him.”

And neither would her bank account when that credit card came due. But the dress really was stunning. It was red, of course. With her honey-hued skin and dark hair, that was a no-brainer. How the gown managed to be slinky and classy at the same time was a mystery to her, though. Carla declared it the result of a great designer. Alex just knew she’d never felt so pretty … or feminine.

She was abjectly grateful when Carla took over the conversation with the hairdresser. They got going about highlights and lowlights and she was dead lost by the time they got to layers and weight around her face. Who knew hair had weight?

Carla was fretting by the time they got back to the love nest at four o’clock, fussing that they barely had time to dress her before Jim came at seven to pick her up.

“Wow. Nice place,” Carla commented as Alex let her into the flat. She’d mentioned to Jim that she was inviting an old girlfriend over as part of establishing the cover of living there and he hadn’t objected. And Carla couldn’t tell the business end of a computer any more than Alex could tell the business end of a mascara brush, as it turned out.

The next hour was spent in the bathroom with abundant laughter from Carla and abundant cursing from Alex.

“Okay, Alex. Watch carefully. You roll the mascara brush like this. It separates your lashes and gives them more volume.”

She got the hang of putting on makeup eventually, and she had to admit that when it was all said and done, she didn’t look like a slutty raccoon as she’d feared she would. In fact, her brown eyes looked huge and dramatic, and her smile looked, well, amazing.

“I can’t believe that’s me,” she breathed into the mirror. Her dark hair draped around her face and over her shoulders in lush waves that made her look exotic and sexy. Totally un-Alex.

“Oh, it’s you, all right,” Carla declared. “I’ve been saying all along you’d clean up great if you’d just give it a try. Let’s go zip you into your dress. Can I leave it to you to put on your own shoes before Jim gets here?”

Alex stuck her tongue out at her friend. Putting the shoes on wasn’t what worried her. Walking in them was. The strappy stilettos had at least three-inch heels, and she was going to be within a hundred yards of Jim Kelley—a deadly combination.

In a few minutes, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet, simply staring.

“Don’t you cry on me, Alex Mendez. I worked too hard getting that makeup just right on you. And don’t kid yourself. It may be waterproof mascara, but it’ll still run down your chin and give you a fake beard if you boo-hoo enough.”

Alex blinked away the tears in her eyes and hugged her friend. “You’re the best, Carla.”

“Of course I am. That’s why I’m your friend. I’m going to skedaddle before Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous gets here. But you have to swear to tell me how he reacts when he sees you. That boy’s going to have a cow. Although, as I recall, goats are more his style,” Carla laughed.