Model Marine. Candace Havens
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usual on Friday afternoon, the area was packed with people. There were some teens in baggy jeans and shirts, but they were all either too skinny or too short to fit in the clothes.
She didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario, but she had to.
Please. I haven’t come this far to fail.
Everything she had was tied up in this show. If the editors hadn’t had a sneak peak she could get away with losing the final two, but that was what most of the buzz had been about.
Glancing down at her watch she grimaced. Only thirty-two minutes till go-time. Tears brimmed her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but one errant drop of water slid down her cheek. She shoved it away with the heel of her hand.
This is no time to cave. Get it together.
“Whoever he is, he isn’t worth that tear,” a deep, whiskey-toned voice said from beside her.
Hannah lifted her head and met a pair of the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen on a man. Then she stepped back—stunned—to find the perfect male specimen attached to those eyes. His blond hair was cut short, his shoulders broad, and, dressed in his blues, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
She had to remind herself to breathe.
“Hello, Marine.”
“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat.
This couldn’t be happening. She glanced down to his hips and then up to his face. He was absolutely beautiful. But there was also something about him. A presence, something that symbolized a strength that had nothing to do with the uniform he wore.
He smiled, seemingly amused by her appraisal.
“Hmm.” She tapped her finger against her chin and then grinned. “How do you feel about helping a damsel in distress?”
“It’s what I do, ma’am. Did he hurt you? I can’t stand a man beating on a woman. That’s one of the things that sends my temper over the edge, and I have to warn you I do have one.”
Charmed by his slight Southern accent, she’d lost what he was saying. “You have one what?”
“A temper.”
“Oh, no. This isn’t about a man. But I need you like no woman has ever needed you. In fact, my life depends on you coming with me right now. And you would make me the happiest woman in the world if you had a friend who is just as hot as you.”
The marine put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Hannah jumped slightly at the piercing volume.
There was a thud of running footsteps, and another man, this one with dark hair and light caramel skin, joined them. He stopped in front of the other marine, his hand flying up to a salute.
“You whistled, Captain, sir.” His voice was clipped, but respectful. Hannah didn’t know her marine ranks very well, but she knew that a captain was up there. She was crazy to ask these men to help her, but she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Lieutenant, seems we have a damsel in distress.”
The marine glanced down at Hannah, his dark eyes checking her face for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
She smiled brightly. “No, but I need your help. Can you gentlemen follow me? I promise, if you give me the next hour of your life, you’ll save mine. And I’ll throw in the best meal you’ve ever had.”
She reached out her hands and wriggled her fingers, begging them to follow.
Both men shrugged.
“Captain, sir, if there’s food involved, I’m in.”
“Then let’s get to it.” The captain took Hannah’s hand. “Fair damsel, lead the way,” he said.
Hannah didn’t have time to question her good fortune, or the fact that the marine warmed her with his touch. She had a show to put on and a career to save. With these two, she had a feeling she was going to kill Lincoln Center in a way that had never been done before.
CAPTAIN WILL HUGHES had done dumb things in his life, especially when it came to women, but this would go to the top of his crazy list. In the past fifteen minutes he’d been asked to strip, put on a pair of great-fitting jeans and a shirt that forced him to keep his arms by his sides, and while one woman messed with the shirt, another held out a pair of cowboy boots for him to slip on.
“His chest is too damn big,” the woman said through the pins in her mouth. “I’ve never seen so many muscles in my life. Hannah, what do you want me to do?”
Hannah stood there appraising him for a few seconds. The desire in her eyes made his crotch uncomfortable. It had been too damn long for him, and she was his idea of the perfect woman. From that honey-blond hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls, to her pert breasts, down to long legs ending in red cowboy boots she was nothing short of gorgeous. Surrounded by models, none compared to her beauty.
“Leave the shirt open. Though, they probably won’t be looking at the clothes when he walks out.” Hannah laughed, and something tugged at Will’s heart.
“One minute. Line up, people!” someone screeched.
The tension in the room was palpable and the noisy din died down.
“What’s wrong?” Will glanced around the tent to see what was happening.
“Nothing. Show’s about to begin and we need it quiet back here so everyone can hear their cues.” Hannah waved over Rafael. As the models walked by, it looked as if his friend was watching a tennis match. Rafe always had a way with women. “All I need you guys to do is walk at a steady pace to the end of the stage, pause about fifteen seconds and walk back. You need to be prepared for the photographers’ flashes when you pause. It can be blinding at times.
“Just give them your best marine glare. You can watch what the girls do on that screen right there.” She pointed to a flat-screen television. “Kayleigh is the stage manager and she’ll tell you when to go on. You’ll enter here, and exit the stage on the other side. I can’t thank you guys enough. And I’ll owe you big if we can just get through the next twenty minutes.”
He was a marine, and would have helped her no matter what, but Will liked the fact she felt she owed him. He could think of at least thirty different ways she could pay him back.
Mind out of the gutter, Marine.
“We’ve got it covered,” Will told her.
“That’s right,” Rafe said. “If there’s one thing marines can do, it’s follow orders.”
“You guys really are the best.” She squeezed Will’s arm. Then she left to take her position near the other side of the stage.
“Sir, we’ve been in some tough situations, but I never thought I’d have to be a male model,” Rafe whispered. “Promise me none of the guys will ever hear about this. Otherwise we’ll never live it down. Though, I got to admit, I love these damn jeans.”
Will chuckled. “Mine could be a size bigger, but I like them, too. And trust me, no one will ever hear a word out of me. I appreciate you helping out.”
Rafael shrugged. “It’s what we do.”
“Showtime!” The stage manager waved her hand.
“Sir?”
“Yeah, Rafe?”
“Are you nervous?”
“We’re marines. We don’t have nerves.” He winked at the man. “But if I did, I’d tell you I’d rather be in the desert fighting hostiles than walking out on that stage.”
“Me, too, sir. Me, too.”
Poor guy. They’d been looking forward to doing some sightseeing before they had to report to the UN the next day as part