Read Online After Midnight by Merline Lovelace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Merline Lovelace
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body screamed with need.
He knew it was irrational, knew he was transferring his frustration and pain over his failed marriage and rapidly disintegrating career. But at that moment he hated Colonel Blackwell for stringing him out like this with passion as hot as the flames that suddenly erupted inside the oven.
Chapter Six
Once a year the commanders on base threw a huge, formal bash for the local dignitaries and their wives. Eglin’s Christmas Ball, the Logistics Group commander informed Jess the last steamy Monday morning in June, was the social event of the year and Eglin’s way of saying thank you for the surrounding communities’ support.
The locals reciprocated, Colonel Hamilton advised, with a number of must-attend events. One was the City of Fort Walton Beach’s answer to Mardi Gras, the Billy Bowlegs Parade and Pirate Ball. Another, the Niceville Mullet Festival. The Oklaloosa County Chamber of Commerce’s by-invitation-only dove hunt and poker night at a private hunting lodge had traditionally been an all-male gathering until a previous female commander had broken through the barriers. Jess could expect an invitation to that event come dove season.
The black-tie affair that culminated the Chautauqua Summer Arts Festival, traditionally held over the 4th of July weekend, constituted another mandatory function. The party was held up in DeFuniak Springs and gave the Eglin folks a chance to mix and mingle with the Walton County big-wigs on their own turf.
Ignoring his key staff’s groans at the prospect of getting all gussied up in formal dress uniforms on one of the hottest nights of the year, Hamilton informed them they would all show, and they would all have a good time.
Somewhat to her surprise, Jess did have a good time, at least at first. The only military woman present, she stood out among the bejeweled and gowned flock. Luckily, the severe lines of her midnight blue formal mess dress uniform flattered her. The straight, floor-length skirt was slit to the knee on one side to allow movement. The tuxedo-style jacket in the same dark blue was paired with a snow-white blouse and satin cummerbund. Embroidered silver epaulets announced her rank, while the two rows of miniature medals decorating her jacket gave her instant status. In a concession to the occasion, she’d piled her honey-brown hair on top of her head and attacked the rambunctious strands with a curling iron. The feathery crown of curls added an unexpectedly feminine touch to the otherwise starkly military ensemble.
Reserved at first, Jess soon relaxed. The eclectic mix of military, local businessmen, and artists made for lively conversation. What’s more, the setting for the lavish cocktail party proved magical. The turn-of-the-century Victorian home of the party’s host was a gem, with fanciful mansards, a three-story turret, and encircling verandahs overlooking the small lake fed by the springs that gave the town its name.
After an hour or so of the required mingling, Jess slipped through the tall French doors to the verandah. Old-fashioned wooden paddle fans churned the evening air, while very modern humidifiers discreetly hidden behind banks of ferns sprayed just enough chilled moisture into the night to make it bearable. Clutching a dew-streaked glass of perfectly chilled reisling from the local Chautauqua Winery, Jess leaned a hip against the railing and gazed at the stately mansions and elaborate cottages encircling the lake. They were all illuminated in honor of the occasion, with additional white lights strung through the trees to add to the festive occasion.
The sight stirred a long-forgotten memory. Vaguely, Jess remembered taking quick swipes at a melting chocolate ice cream cone while she and her mother completed a walking tour of Circle Drive one Sunday afternoon. Helen had read about each house from a printed brochure. A little later a band had set up in the gingerbread bandstand beside the lake, and mother and
He knew it was irrational, knew he was transferring his frustration and pain over his failed marriage and rapidly disintegrating career. But at that moment he hated Colonel Blackwell for stringing him out like this with passion as hot as the flames that suddenly erupted inside the oven.
Chapter Six
Once a year the commanders on base threw a huge, formal bash for the local dignitaries and their wives. Eglin’s Christmas Ball, the Logistics Group commander informed Jess the last steamy Monday morning in June, was the social event of the year and Eglin’s way of saying thank you for the surrounding communities’ support.
The locals reciprocated, Colonel Hamilton advised, with a number of must-attend events. One was the City of Fort Walton Beach’s answer to Mardi Gras, the Billy Bowlegs Parade and Pirate Ball. Another, the Niceville Mullet Festival. The Oklaloosa County Chamber of Commerce’s by-invitation-only dove hunt and poker night at a private hunting lodge had traditionally been an all-male gathering until a previous female commander had broken through the barriers. Jess could expect an invitation to that event come dove season.
The black-tie affair that culminated the Chautauqua Summer Arts Festival, traditionally held over the 4th of July weekend, constituted another mandatory function. The party was held up in DeFuniak Springs and gave the Eglin folks a chance to mix and mingle with the Walton County big-wigs on their own turf.
Ignoring his key staff’s groans at the prospect of getting all gussied up in formal dress uniforms on one of the hottest nights of the year, Hamilton informed them they would all show, and they would all have a good time.
Somewhat to her surprise, Jess did have a good time, at least at first. The only military woman present, she stood out among the bejeweled and gowned flock. Luckily, the severe lines of her midnight blue formal mess dress uniform flattered her. The straight, floor-length skirt was slit to the knee on one side to allow movement. The tuxedo-style jacket in the same dark blue was paired with a snow-white blouse and satin cummerbund. Embroidered silver epaulets announced her rank, while the two rows of miniature medals decorating her jacket gave her instant status. In a concession to the occasion, she’d piled her honey-brown hair on top of her head and attacked the rambunctious strands with a curling iron. The feathery crown of curls added an unexpectedly feminine touch to the otherwise starkly military ensemble.
Reserved at first, Jess soon relaxed. The eclectic mix of military, local businessmen, and artists made for lively conversation. What’s more, the setting for the lavish cocktail party proved magical. The turn-of-the-century Victorian home of the party’s host was a gem, with fanciful mansards, a three-story turret, and encircling verandahs overlooking the small lake fed by the springs that gave the town its name.
After an hour or so of the required mingling, Jess slipped through the tall French doors to the verandah. Old-fashioned wooden paddle fans churned the evening air, while very modern humidifiers discreetly hidden behind banks of ferns sprayed just enough chilled moisture into the night to make it bearable. Clutching a dew-streaked glass of perfectly chilled reisling from the local Chautauqua Winery, Jess leaned a hip against the railing and gazed at the stately mansions and elaborate cottages encircling the lake. They were all illuminated in honor of the occasion, with additional white lights strung through the trees to add to the festive occasion.
The sight stirred a long-forgotten memory. Vaguely, Jess remembered taking quick swipes at a melting chocolate ice cream cone while she and her mother completed a walking tour of Circle Drive one Sunday afternoon. Helen had read about each house from a printed brochure. A little later a band had set up in the gingerbread bandstand beside the lake, and mother and
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