No More Lonely Nights by Nicole McGehee Page A

dusky blue. Dominique lifted her face to the fresh air, glad to be liberated from the stuffy office. Directly in front of the entrance sat Hampton’s military car. His driver held open the door to the back seat. Dominique started to enter, but Stephen caught her by the elbow. She turned and looked at him questioningly.
    He smiled. “It’s such a fine night. I’d like to take my own car if you don’t mind.” He pointed to a sporty red Jaguar roadster parked some yards away. The top was down and Dominique could see the sparkling tan leather interior.
    She grinned back at him. “That would be wonderful.”
    Hampton dismissed his driver and led Dominique to the convertible. He held the door open for her as she got in, then went around to the other side. He turned his head to look at her. “You should take off your hat, or it may blow away.”
    “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that.” Dominique reached up and removed the tiny round cap pinned to her curls.
    “I think there’s a scarf in the glove box if you’d like to cover your hair,” said Stephen.
    “No, thank you,” she said, too quickly. Dominique suspected that it was Lieutenant Smythe’s. She didn’t like to think about that.
    “Right, then. We’re off,” Stephen said briskly. The engine growled to life, then settled into a contented purr. Dominique watched Stephen’s hands as he put the car in reverse, then shifted into first. They were strong-looking, but long and elegant.
    As they started to drive, the wind mussed Stephen’s hair. It made him look younger, Dominique thought, as she covertly studied his face. She felt the sudden urge to run her finger down the smooth line of his aristocratic profile, as a blind person might to discover the features of a loved one. She quickly averted her eyes and looked straight ahead.
    The car slowed at the base checkpoint and Dominique spoke. “I live nearby.” She gave him rapid directions. “You’ll be back by eight-thirty.”
    Stephen gave her a puzzled look.
    Dominique reminded him, “For your appointment with Lieutenant Smythe.” She tried to keep her tone neutral.
    “Oh, yes,” Stephen said indifferently.
    They drove the rest of the way in silence. Dominique was excruciatingly aware of Stephen’s body. Each time he moved his legs to depress the clutch or step on the gas, she could see the muscles of his thighs through the thin, tropical-weight wool of his slacks. His left hand on the stick shift was so very near that her skirt, buffeted by the wind, once blew over it. She hastily pulled back the material and secured it under her right knee.
    Dominique wished she could think of something witty or intelligent to say, but she was tongue-tied. Nor did Hampton look at her or speak. He seemed deep in thought. Occasionally he whistled a few bars of a tune, then abruptly stopped. Dominique remembered the day in the office when he had whistled the tune of the rumba from the officers’ club.
    Before she realized it, they had arrived at her apartment. Hampton eased the car to the curb and stopped. He took one hand off the steering wheel and turned the upper half of his body to face Dominique. For a moment, he contemplated her.
    Dominique held her breath, wondering what would come next.
    Finally, Hampton said, “Thank you so much… for your help.”
    Dominique was overcome with disappointment. But what had she expected? she asked herself. She knew he had a date at eight-thirty. And even if he didn’t,
what had she expected?
    She realized, with a start, that she hadn’t answered him. She was simply staring into his eyes. Quickly, she looked away. “I didn’t mind helping,” she said. She gathered her purse and hat. He didn’t move from his place. Did he intend to open her door or did he have something more to say? With her right hand, she reached across her left shoulder and unlocked the door.
    Stephen looked startled by the action. “Oh, excuse me…” He hastily got out of the car, then came around to