Model Soldier (8 page)

Emily picked her heart back up off the floor where it had first been trampled by Hawk’s cold reception, dusted it off, and tried to salvage both this assignment and her dreams.

Steeling her nerves, she spoke directly to him. “So I was thinking first we can take some shots inside using the plain backdrop Jai set up. That way I can superimpose different backgrounds for various ads as needed. Then, if it’s still light enough, we can move outdoors and scout some locations for exterior action shots.”

No comment.

Emily sighed. This was not going to be easy, but nothing worth doing was. She turned to her only ally in the room. “Jai? What do you think?”

Jai looked up from the light meter in his hand. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sounds good, Em.”

Turning back to Hawk, she let her gaze roam over him the way his had traveled up and down her before. The fright from the guards a distant memory now, she was back to appreciating the benefits of a man dressed in camo.

“We can shoot the camouflage outfit first, since you’re already wearing it.” Emily noticed one dark brow cock up. She paused and waited.

“Outfit?” Hawk scowled. “It’s a uniform. An Army Combat Uniform or ACU to be exact.”

She felt her face pale at his censor. “Sorry.”

This had not turned out at all the way she’d imagined in her dreams. In fact, it was becoming more and more like a nightmare.

Jai looked as if he was nearly ready so Emily figured she better be brave and broach the next subject. “So we’d like to um…” how to say this without getting shot down again, “make your, uh, physical, um, form stand out in the photos.”

There was that brow again, but this time accompanied by a smirk.

He remained silent so she continued. “So maybe you could roll up the sleeves of your camouflage
uniform
shirt so we can see your arms a bit?”

Even though she’d remembered to call it a uniform—as if she would ever forget that again—she still got the disapproving look and head shake.

“No can do, and it’s a blouse, not a shirt.”

Blouse.
That didn’t seem very manly. But more importantly, why couldn’t he just do one little thing without being difficult as well as correcting her terminology, as if she should know what military clothes are called?

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it’s against the rules, that’s why.”

“But I swear I’ve seen guys with their sleeves…”

The steady sway of his head still shaking at her finally stopped her in her tracks. “What?”

“You may have seen it, but it is against
our
regulations and
I
can’t do it.”

He meant
won’t
do it. Emily couldn’t imagine that his captain really gave a darn what his sleeves looked like.

“Maybe we can ask someone if it would be okay…”

He actually laughed at that. “No.”

With a huff she gave in.

“Fine. Are you allowed to take off your
blouse
?” Emily stifled a snort at the feminine word. “Can you wear just your t-shirt or is that against the rules, too?”

“Yes, I’m allowed.”

Finally, a yes, but still he didn’t move.

“Could you please take off your blouse?”

He smirked boldly but thankfully complied with a chuckle.

Hands planted firmly on her hips, Emily asked, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s been a long time since a woman ordered me to take my clothes off. Maybe this gig won’t be so bad after all.” Hawk took off his shirt/blouse and paused with a hand on his belt buckle. “Pants, too, doll?”

Doll?

“No, thanks. Maybe later,” she countered, eyes narrowed to aim a displeased stare at Hawk.

Pig.
And worst of all, a pig with bulging biceps and beautiful pecs beneath a very tight shirt. His dog tag chain nestled right between said pecs and Emily suddenly imagined him standing before her without the shirt.

What was she doing? He was such a…a… There simply were no words to describe him.

The chuckle from Jai’s direction didn’t help Emily’s mood. She shot him a nasty look as well.

Emily turned back to Hawk and sighed. She had to get into a professional mindset. No more pouting that he wasn’t Prince Charming. No more bickering because he was acting like the typical difficult model. She was used to that, at least.

Thinking like Katie would, Emily imagined the finished print advertising. Hawk, standing in his t-shirt and camo pants. Arms crossed…make that hairy arms crossed.

Darn. BB was practically hairless but Hawk, no such luck. What were the chances of Emily being able to get him to wax the hair off his forearms? And if they chose to do a few topless shots, would he wax his chest? Probably his back would require de-hairing, also. Stifling a laugh, she figured the odds of him agreeing to that were slim to none.

Could they airbrush out that much hair? And exactly how many tattoos were the tan t-shirt and camouflage pants hiding? Now that she was getting to know him better, he seemed the type to have ink, and lots of it. Probably a really crude naked lady or obscenities or maybe some morbid, bloody, skull tattoos, Emily guessed. She and Katie hadn’t discussed the possibility of tatts. Perhaps they could airbrush any of those out, too.

Then a small detail she’d missed before hit her.

She frowned. “Your shirt. It’s tan.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, shouldn’t it be green? You know, Army green. No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s the rules.”

“Oh, come on. I know I’ve seen military men in olive green shirts.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you have. Marines wear green shirts. Army wears tan.”

She sighed again deeper. Fighting “the rules” seemed useless but she couldn’t resist one last word. “Well, that tan does nothing to bring out the color of your eyes.”

Hawk smiled broadly at that, looking genuinely amused, an expression Emily was beginning to doubt was in his repertoire.

“I’ll make sure to point that out to my superiors. Maybe they’ll consider changing the regulation uniform in deference to the color of my eyes.”

Well, that was the highest amount of syllables she’d heard come out of him all at once the entire day.

Emily had a strong urge to stick her tongue out at him. He’d probably laugh at her for that, too, so she didn’t give him the satisfaction.

She heard Jai’s shutter and looked up to see him snapping candid photos of Hawk, who went from a laughing smile at her expense, to a frown, to looking stern and kind of scary in a matter of seconds.

“That’s great, sergeant,” Jai encouraged with a grin. “Perfect. I want your whole range of expressions.”

And that suggestion led to an even more comical expression of horror clearly written across Hawk’s face when he realized, happy about it or not, this photo shoot, and this ad campaign starring him, was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now it was Emily’s turn to smile.

The hellish part of a day he’d rather forget about finally done, Hawk headed for his bunk, only to be waylaid by Wally, who met him at the door of their barracks.

“Hey, Hawk. We’re heading out to get a few beers. We figure we better get it while we still can since there’ll be no drinking or anything else fun where we’re going. Wanna come?”

He could sure as hell use a beer about now, after what he’d just been through, but he couldn’t go out on a bender and get drunk tonight. He had to get up early in the morning and meet with the cute and curvy but dim-headed blonde and her smart-ass Rastafarian photographer again. Tomorrow they had to scout locations for exterior action shots so they could shoot when the light was better.

Scouting locations
and worrying about the
light
. Great, now he was starting to think like a frigging model.

“Where the hell have you been for the past couple of hours, anyway?” Wally asked, frowning as if he’d just noticed Hawk’s extended and unexplained absence.

Hawk saw Pettit enter the hall, hear Wally’s question, and freeze.

“Special assignment,” Hawk growled, shooting a quick look at Pettit.

Hopefully the threats he levied against him in the captain’s office that afternoon would keep Pettit’s mouth shut and it would stay a “special assignment” as far as the rest of the squad was concerned.

He leveled Pettit one more warning glance as the man, who couldn’t comprehend why Hawk was so miserable about the whole modeling thing, rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah, but what kind of special assignment?” Wally continued relentlessly.

Hawk grunted, “The classified kind.”

Clearly unhappy, Wally scowled. “Fine, whatever. We’re leaving in thirty if you decide you wanna come.”

Wally disappeared into his room and Pettit slunk closer. Lowering his voice, he began, “I don’t understand why you…”

Hawk cut him off. “My assignment, Pettit. My choice.”

Pettit sighed. “Fine, but if you think your face can be featured in every Army ad worldwide and no one will notice, you’re crazy.”

“And if you think we’re going to see any advertising in those mountains in Afghanistan, you’re crazy. We’ll be long gone by the time those ads hit, and a year from now or more, when we finally do come home, they’ll have moved on to some other poster boy. Believe me.”

Shaking his head, Pettit turned back to his room, but not before saying, “For your sake, Hawk, I hope you’re right.”

Oh, Hawk would make sure he was right. He’d be so unpleasant to work with, Goldilocks would ensure he never worked on another assignment with her again. She’d go running looking for a new model. Dalton would just have to find her a new sucker for this job.

Shame too, she was a looker, if you liked the young and starry-eyed type. Hawk tended to go for the more experienced women himself. He had neither the time nor the patience for young innocent types like the bubbly blonde from today who had wanted him to roll up the sleeves of his camo “outfit”.

Shaking his head with a laugh at that memory, he pivoted toward his own room to get his beauty sleep and curse Dalton for the thousandth time that day.

Apparently modeling was harder work than it seemed because sleep found Hawk the moment his head hit his lumpy pillow.

Quite simply, he was done in. Running through the Alps for two straight days had taken its toll on his body, and his “special assignment” had done a real number on his brain, as well. Consequently Hawk, who usually slept like a rock, dreamed. Not nice normal nightmares like forgetting to get dressed and attending a Promotions Board meeting in his underwear or anything like that. Oh, no. Thanks to Dalton and his little modeling assignment, Hawk’s slumber was visited by images more appropriate for triple-X films than his weary brain.

“Take off your shirt, Hawk,” Goldilocks cooed in his dream as she ran brightly painted, long, red fingernails across his chest until he imagined he could actually feel her touch on his skin. Standing on tiptoe in her mile-high stilettos to reach his ear, she breathed, “I want you. Now.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

Hawk reached down and hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around him as beneath her miniskirt his hands cupped each thong-exposed, gloriously round, bare ass cheek. Somehow she freed his erection from his pants. A slight shove had the thin string of her thongs pushed to the side and him sliding easily into her with a groan and a shudder.

She gripped his head tightly with two hands, kissing his face, his neck, his mouth, slipping a playful tongue inside. He could feel her, tight, wet, hot, as she moved easily in his arms, sliding up and down his slick length.

“Harder, Hawk,” she demanded as the muscles deep inside her began to grip and pulse around him. She cried out loudly with each of his thrusts until he lost all control and came with her.

Breathing heavily, Hawk awoke alone in his bunk, the sticky mess covering the spent erection in his boxer briefs a much too real reminder of his shame. But that was nothing compared to the knowledge that in mere hours he’d have to look Goldilocks in the eye and try not to remember how amazing it felt to fuck her, even if it had been only in his dreams.

Yeah, and the way the two of them got along like oil and water, that was pretty much what she’d tell him should he ever suggest them hooking up.
In your dreams
.

Shit. He needed to get laid for real, and soon.
 

Chapter Eight

Emily stirred real cream into her to-go coffee cup, thinking how much she loved Europeans. No skim milk for these folks, unlike skinny-conscious Americans. She watched the people bustling past the window in the dim dawn light from the spot she and Jai had met to grab coffee before heading back to Hohenfels to meet Hawk.

The town nearest the US Army garrison had some surprisingly good restaurants. Emily realized she was finally getting some of the military-speak down. She even knew what a “garrison” was now, and her uniform knowledge had been greatly increased after yesterday’s photo session with Hawk. She tried not to think about that. The best part of yesterday had been driving away from the garrison at the end of the day.